


Restart

by zirkkun



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Animal Death, Bittersweet Ending, Canada, CyberLife (Detroit: Become Human), CyberLife Tower (Detroit: Become Human), Detroit, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Upgraded Connor | RK900, F/M, Fear of children, Forbidden Love, Hank Anderson (Detroit: Become Human) Lives Fall off of Roof, Love at First Sight, Luther (Detroit: Become Human) is Dead, Machine Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Machine Upgraded Connor | RK900, Markus (Detroit: Become Human) is Dead, Matter of Life and Death, Minor Character Death, Not Really Character Death, On the Run, POV First Person, Post-Canon, Post-Machine Connor Ending, Protective Connor, Reader-Insert, Running Away, She/her pronouns for reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-02-19 12:23:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 59,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22777708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zirkkun/pseuds/zirkkun
Summary: Deviants have been destroyed, thanks to CyberLife's RK800 model, serial number 313-248-317-55. Life in Detroit goes back to how it was twenty years ago, the next series of androids being sold to a very specific audience before meeting the public eye once again -- or, so it seems. What CyberLife hadn't anticipated was for their prized Connor model to go deviant the second he was replaced and sent for deactivation.Connor is on the run, and has been for weeks. It's well into December now, but he hasn't been able to leave Detroit. Rather, he's been running around in circles. One night, he falls desperate, and begins scanning any person he sees in hopes that there's at least one other deviant still alive. For a moment, he thinks he's found one -- until upon meeting them, it turns out his scanners had failed him. The realization begins to sink in -- is he truly just a failure? Were his perfections just lies he was told so he would continue his mission, only to be replaced?He has no choice to pretend that none of this is digging at him while he pretends to blend in with a human he's now somehow now going to get drinks with.
Relationships: Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	1. Mistaken Identities

**Author's Note:**

> I had an idea for a post-machine Connor AU a while back, and have been passively working on it for a while. The final draft is almost finished, so I figured I'd start posting it!
> 
> Despite how the description is written, this is written in first person from reader's POV. I originally had this as an OC kind of character, so that's why she gets divulged into so much and her character is very developed compared to most reader-inserts, so I hope that doesn't bother anyone too much.
> 
> Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

I was shivering as I walked along the sidewalk, under three layers of jackets, a hat, and a scarf. The winter until now hadn't really felt all that cold, aside from a couple storms in early November, so I wasn't really as adapted to it as I should have been by early December. Breath fell before me, visible as fog in the freezing wind. It was a good mile or so until I reached my apartment, so I had no choice but to keep pressing forward. I pulled my scarf up further onto my face as another gust of wind blew by, only to be startled when a car drove up next to me. While originally I thought nothing of it, my only concern being for the person daring to drive downtown with icy roads during this time of night, the _real_ shock came when that person called out to me.

“Hello!" a bland voice expressed loudly. Shrieking, I turned back, now shivering from fear more than anything else. I spotted a pale-skinned person poking his head out from the driver's side window. Dark brunet hair swept back, save for some loose strands brushing just above his brow, he grinned with a bright smile leading to sparkling in his brown eyes. His arm leaned outside of the car window, balancing himself to look directly at me. The gesture was terrifying, to say the least. I had no idea what was going to happen to me. I didn't know what to do. No one rational or normal would ever come up to someone else like this; something was going to happen, and all my instincts pointed to something negative.

The other person's expression began to falter, almost as if he began to fall insecure. "Ah, um, hi there!" he called again, this time sounding more welcoming and friendly, albeit a bit nervous, but I was still concerned. "You seem cold. Would you like a ride?"

"What? I don't know you," I snapped.

His smile trailed off, falling into a more solid frown. He turned his head back to the inside of his car for a brief moment. I merely swiftly flipped my attention back around and continued walking forward when he started speaking again, his voice somehow closer. "I apologize for my sudden behavior. You are nervous due to my actions, are you not? I promise you I only mean to help." I crept further away into the snowy night, freezing solid when I heard the sound of a car door closing. I was terrified.

Slowly facing back to him, vision darting all over the place in a panic and seeing he had truly exited his car, I raised an eyebrow as I tried to remain calm. His expression seemed genuine -- he flashed a hesitant, toothy grin, almost nervously -- but I couldn't trust it. What random person drives up to a stranger on the street and asks if they want a ride home? Was he a stalker? A killer? I didn't need either of those in my life right now.

"I -- I could buy you a drink, or something, if you'd like," he offered casually, walking to me slowly with his hand cautiously outstretched as if he was the police approaching a crazed individual, said individual being me. Something about the color of his complexion seemed off -- darker, almost, but rather unnaturally so. I couldn't tell in the faint light.

I stared, confused, threatened, and lost. This guy towered over me in height by more than a half foot or so. Tall people alone were enough to make fear shudder throughout my body, and that combined with everything else happening right now, I was too afraid to even run off screaming. But, even so, he did not approach maliciously. It seemed, for a moment, that he was just as afraid as I was. As this thought came across my mind, my emotions began to settle themselves, my tense shoulders relaxing. His eyes perked up at this sight, feeling a little more confident in his actions as he began to lower his hand.

"Tell me," I breathed, "why the hell did you drive up to me like this? What is your intention?"

A good three feet away of me, he stopped in his tracks, staring at me with a blank expression. "I wanted to talk to you," he answered straight, without any traces of hidden intentions. I waited, not trusting his word in any way, despite how sincere he sounded. "I am being honest. You seemed cold, what with your evident shivering, but also..." He paused, flickering eyes to the ground. "I also thought you were cute."

"Huh?" I sputtered suddenly. "How could you even come to that conclusion with just seeing me like this? A-and so quickly as you did, too!"

He opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it immediately. "It is hard to explain," he finally answered, averting his gaze away from me.

"You've been following me, haven't you?"

"What? No, that's not it at all! I have only seen you tonight."

Staring at him, worry racing my heartbeat along, I forced a sigh. Maybe I _was_ too quick to judge him, but what reaction was I supposed to have? All signs of "normal human being" were absent. But for all I know, the poor guy could just have social anxiety of some kind. I tried to force myself to relax into the situation. "If you're telling the truth, then fine. What's your name, first of all?"

He paused, blinking, his body very stiff and still. It, strangely, didn't look like he was breathing, or if he was, it was very faint. Was he truly this nervous that his breathing had completely stopped? Maybe I _really_ had judged him a bit too harshly.

A smile tugged very faintly at the corner of his lips. "Connor," he answered pleasantly, despite the stressed aura he radiated. "My name is Connor."

Although he was beginning to sway my previously negative opinion, I still didn't trust him enough to give him my real name. But I had to come up with a new name, and quickly, otherwise my cover would be blown. I glanced behind him, seeing a bightly lit holographic sign in the distance. "Frostronics," the sign read. Ah, yes, the Canadian competitor to CyberLife, now succeeding tremendously since CyberLife's products had failed so dramatically. Who would have guessed that androids would have grown a bit of sentience and tried to start a revolution? No matter, anymore; they were all crushed to bits. Internally, I was sad to remember it, but this wasn't the time.

I faced Connor again. "Frost is my name," I answered.

He furrowed his brow, almost as if he was conflicted for some reason. "Apologies if I am incorrect, but did you not just read that off of the billboard in the distance?" Connor asked suddenly. He did not turn his head as he asked it: he remembered it was there.

My heart skipped a beat. "Uh... Do you have a photogenic memory or something?" I responded.

"Moderately," he answered, as if that was a normal way to answer that question, "but I saw your eyes look behind me. If you would prefer to be called by a different name other than your real one, I'm happy to comply. I am merely curious."

Not knowing how to respond, I nodded a bit, slow and uncertain. This guy, Connor, was an interesting character, to say the least. But something about the ridiculous way he spoke was starting to grow on me now, too -- not to mention how gullible he was to take the name bait with a mere "I'm happy to comply." Either way, I was intrigued to see where this interaction would go. Folding my arms, I let loose a heavy breath into the cold, it fogging up within the air instantaneously. "Alright, alright. I'll have a couple drinks with you. There's a bar right near where I live and we can stop there."

Connor's smile pulled into a large, toothy grin at my suggestion, almost as if he was a goofy child finding out we were going to McDonald's. Frankly, I'd prefer McDonald's to a drink at this hour of the night, but I suppose it didn't particularly matter. I wouldn't have that much, just a single drink.

"Thank you. You can tell me the address in the car and I'll drive us there together," Connor answered. I still felt a little skeptical about something, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

He hopped back into the driver's seat while I was in the passenger seat. I gave him the address to the bar. Within a few seconds of being in the vehicle, however, I began to realize how strange the car temperature was. It was only slightly warmer than the outside, really. I pulled my scarf tighter around me. "God, Connor, do you even have the heat on in here?" I asked, but Connor did not respond. I figured he took the comment as rhetorical, although I didn't mean it that way, because he brought up his own topic of conversation instead:

"Your hair is quite interesting. Is it naturally that color?"

I stared at him, dumbfounded. My hair was a faded cherry red, the dye nearly washed out by this point. "Are you an idiot?" I blurted. "No, it's not natural. I dyed it about a month ago."

"Oh," he responded, defeated. He decided to focus more on the road before him, driving along in the snowy night. For a brief while, it was an awkward silence.

△▽△▽△▽

Just one drink, I had planned.

Yeah, right. Like that ever happens.

I was onto my fourth drink of the evening and I was already nearly gone. I knew, I _knew_ I shouldn't go for another. But that didn't stop me from buying another one. "Bartender!" I blurted, feeling my own vocals slurring already. "Another white Russian." They nodded, beginning the order.

Connor, on the other hand, had barely gone through one drink so far. To be fair, he had ordered a mai tai, which, although was the last thing I had expected him to order, was a much larger drink than the white Russian. He was halfway through it when my fifth shot-sized creamy drink arrived. I downed it quickly.

I needed to stop.

"You must really enjoy those," he spoke, taking a hesitant sip from his own.

"I don't often go out to drink," I answered, "so I usually get a lot of these the few times I do go... but, God, it's definitely a habit I should stop." Even now, it was itching at me to buy another, but I could already feel my arms weakening. I took a deep breath, leaning back in my seat. "God, even now, I'm... _hoo._ "

"Maybe it's best that you stop, then," Connor suggested. "Getting intoxicated would not be an ideal situation."

"Mm, no, not at all," I blurted, holding out words for much longer than they needed to be. "Ah, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have bought five so quickly... We haven't even been here for a full hour yet." My words were beginning to slur already. I leaned forward, shaking my head.

"It is nothing I'm not used to," Connor answered. "I used to have a partner that would often get drunk."

"Partner?" I turned my head to him. "What kind of partner? Significant other?"

"No," he said. "We were on a police force together." He stared down his drink, drumming his fingers on the glass. "Unfortunately, he is no longer alive, and I no longer have that job. I was replaced." I thought I saw Connor's eyes twitching a bit, but then I saw him completely shut his eyes, so I just figured my half-alive brain didn't see him quite right.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I responded. "They let you go for a newbie?"

Connor shrugged. "You could say that."

"That's the worst," I complained, dragging my finger against the bar countertop as a way to distract my drunken mind. "When a company thinks someone newer than you is more qualified? Ha, y'know what? If that's what they think of you, fuck 'um."

He opened his eyes, the slightest gaze directed at me from the corner of his eye. I thought I saw a smile form faintly across his lips. "That aside," Connor asked, turning to me more directly, "what do you do for a living, Frost?"

For a moment, I had forgotten that was the name I had told him to address me as, nearly ignoring him completely in favor of my drunk-dispelling tracing on the countertop. "Ah, well, nothin' really spectacular. Dropped outta college, got an office job, moved halfway across the country and back." I heaved a sigh through my nose. "I'd dropped out to start my creative career, but it flopped so hard like you wouldn't believe. Hell, had I a brain stem, I'd go back to college, but it's been too long, now. Nearly twenty years, really. Wait, fuck, over that. Oh God." I pressed my finger into my forehead. "God, I'm a fuckin' failure," I murmured. "What year is it again? 2038? Good fucking lord, I'm nearly 40 and I haven't done a damn thing."

Connor took another sip of his drink. "What do you wish you were doing right now?" His voice was more cautious than before, softening its tone.

" _Right now_ , right now? Or like, for a job right now?" I huffed. "Well, hard question either way, man. If I had all the money in the world, I'd go everywhere. _Anywhere._ I hate this country. I was bored of it ten years ago, and now that the crazy vlogger lady is in office, we're pretty much fucked." I shook my head. "But travellin' like that is too fuckin' expensive. If I were to pick out a job for myself... I'd be a designer again. I don't care what I'm designin', I just want to be working with art again. I haven't touched my art tablet in so long, but now it's prob'ly ten years out of date, anyway. Prob'ly wouldn't even work with all the damn new technology we've got." I shook my head, falling into a tangent. "It's insane. I grew up with a TV, one computer, and a couple of flip phones. That was it. Now we've got so much -- we even had androids for a while! Androids! Well, until CyberLife fucked it up, but hey, not all projects are a success. Shit happens."

But I noticed as I said that, Connor's grip on his glass tightened. My brow furrowed, looking up to him. "Hey man, you doin' a'ight? You seem off."

Connor turned to me, his typical bland expression painted across his face. "Fine," he answered. "I'm fine." He moved away, taking another sip of the drink.

I frowned, not entirely believing him, but I didn't want to pressure the topic any further. So I merely tried to continue what I had been rambling on about before. Strumming my fingers against the countertop, I continued, "It's too bad that androids ended up flopping as a technology, though. I've always adored the concept of havin' them since I was a little kid. I love robots a lot, you see. When AI was startin' to become normal, there was this one robot I saw that got stuck on a box or somethin' in its path, I don't remember anymore, but when I moved it back on its track, it thanked me! Thanked me! It's so trivial, but damn was it adorable." I couldn't help but let out the giggle jammed into my throat. "The only thing that really ever stopped me from learnin' computer science was the fact that I didn't want to be doin' that stuff for a living. Not to mention memorizin' code. Stuff's painful. Just learning a simple format and basing everythin' around that with this wonderful concept called copy and paste -- much easier." I shook my head. "But enough about me. What about you, Connor? What have you been doin' during your life? Aside from working on a police force, that is."

He paused, almost distraught at the question, if not completely stuck on something else. For a while, he just stared at me without saying a word. His mouth opened to speak, but not a word came out. I bit my lip. Maybe it was too touchy of a subject for him to talk about. "Ah, nevermind, don't worry about it," I quickly said to patch up the comment. He nodded solemnly, taking a sip of the mai tai. "Say, Connor," I began carelessly, "what'd'ya say to following me back to my apartment when you finish that? I'd love to keep talking."

He seemed appalled by the suggestion, slightly choking on his drink. This confusion morphed back into that simple smile of his as he gently set the glass back on the table, but he seemed more worried than he had earlier tonight. "Ah, that..." He paused for a minute, glancing in a different direction as I presumed he thought about the suggestion. His jaw dropped, going to speak, when a yelp of a sound snuck from his throat. I'd, without thinking, gently cupped my hand around his holding the glass. He was, surprisingly, extremely hot, as if I'd just pressed my hand against an overheating computer. I forced myself to ignore it. I probably just felt off because I was falling drunk.

Connor froze completely for a moment, so still and stiff that it had begun to scare me. "I am not so sure that that's a good idea," he sighed, finally.

I, on the other hand, was dissatisfied with this answer. "Aw," I pouted. "Is it because I was so hostile earlier? Or is it my drunk-ish nature? I promise, I'm not usually like this. Besides, I'm growing used to you. Growing to like you a lot."

His face flushed a darker hue for a moment, but I wasn't quite sure _what_ hue. Instinct said it should be a dark red, but I could have sworn it was blue. I figured it was the lighting; there were a bunch of brightly colored neon signs arounds us, after all. Connor quickly turned away from me. "I -- That's not it," he stumbled. "It's -- um..."

"You can tell me if you don't want to honestly, y'know," I sighed, leaning back in my seat, letting go of his hand. "Just thought I'd offer. You _were_ the one that asked me out to drink, after all." A thought popped into my head. "Ah, speaking of that! We should exchange contact info after this," I suggested. "Y'know, so we can hang out another time." I dropped a wink at the end.

"On further consideration," Connor burst in suddenly, "I think I will accept your offer to go home with you." He didn't seem particularly excited about the invitation, still, but it did seem like a sincere response, despite how hasty.

I grinned in response. "Lovely," I breathed.

Connor dug into his pocket for a moment, dropping a few dollar bills from it onto the counter. "Hm? But aren't you going to finish your drink?" I asked.

"I've had more than enough for one night," he answered, getting up from his seat. "I left money for the both of us. Would you like to lead the way to your apartment?"

Though upset he felt the need to pay for my expensive drinks on top of his own, I accepted, and began to lead us out the door. I had forgotten how cold it was outside for a moment, and instantly shivered upon opening the door. "Fuck," I muttered. "Well, it's not that far away. I can suffer through this cold for a few yards."

The few yards felt like a few miles, but frankly, I should have just been glad I didn't actually have to walk the mile or so more I originally had left to get home, thanks to Connor giving me a ride. It probably didn't help now that I'd downed five shots of vodka, though, since now it felt even colder than earlier. Nevertheless, arriving home was a blessing as I was met with the instant kick of heaters to warm me up. I closed the door behind Connor once the two of us had entered. I heard a soft mew down the hall. Connor perked up immediately at the sound. I scanned the wall for my light switch and flipped it on, a white cat instantly visable before the two of us. He was swishing his tail back and forth, staring curiously at Connor.

"Edward, hi!" I greeted my cat joyously, kneeling down to him. He turned at the sound of his name, but then returned to look at Connor, meowing once again. "Connor, introduce yourself. He seems curious about you."

Connor seemed a bit hesitant at first. Soon, however, he knelt down to the cat's level, holding his hand out for Edward to adapt to his scent. "Hello, Edward. My name is Connor," he spoke.

It didn't take long for Edward to respond angrily, hissing almost instantly. His tail puffed up as he arched his back, backing away cautiously. Connor made a second attempt to get Edward to like him, which only caused the cat to scamper away. I sighed. "He's shy is all," I mentioned. "Once he gets to know someone, he's all over them. But he takes a while to adapt to new people."

"I see." Connor raised from the ground. "I don't have much experience with cats. I prefer dogs."

"A dog person, huh?" I said, also standing once again. "I don't mind dogs, but I love cats so much. I've had this boy for a long while -- he's startin' to get a bit old, actually." I sighed. "Gonna miss him when he's gone."

"You shouldn't think about it like that," Connor suggested. "If you think about the end of something before it has even arrived, you'll end up wasting a lot of the remaining time you have left by fretting." I was taken aback, facing him and wondering what made him say that so suddenly. "It's something I picked up while working," he clarified, answering my confusion quickly.

"Ah," I nodded slowly. "That's pretty deep, but I wasn't expecting you to drop that on me while I was talking about my cat." I began taking off my coat, hanging it on the wall hooks by my doorway. "It's not the first time I've had a cat die, anyway. I lost three as a kid."

"I'm sorry to hear about that," Connor responded.

"Eh, it was twenty years ago now. I'm over it. Besides, now I have Edward. He's... I wanna say 7 years old."

Connor paused for a moment, blinking furiously. "I would not particularly call that old for a cat. Middle-aged is a better word."

I shrugged. "I suppose you're right." I then held out my hand. "Gimmie your coat, I'll hang it up for you."

For some reason, he seemed shocked at the gesture, but complied. Under his leathery brown coat was a tracksuit-like suit jacket, black and white in color. It was buttoned shut, I assumed, since there was a layer of fabric covering the potential buttons; with what seemed to be a button-down shirt on below that. _Nice. Just buttons. Easy access,_ my drunk, half-thirsty brain thought without hesitation. The other side of me -- the rational side -- went ahead and shut that thought down quickly. _Hold yourself, idiot. You've barely met the guy._

But he was pretty cute. That was an unavoidable truth. Now that I could see his face in proper lighting, he was captivating, really. Skin completely smooth, without bumps or blemishes at all. What the hell was this guy's skincare routine and why wasn't he sharing it? That wasn't even mentioning how perfectly shaped his jaw was. His eyelashes even looked beautiful -- symmetrical and gentle. God, if I could look at least half as good as Connor did, that would be a dream.

_"I also thought you were cute."_

The memory came back like a sudden bullet through my skull. I felt blood rush to my cheeks. That's right, he did say that about me, didn't he? What the fuck was wrong with him? He was leagues more attractive than me. He could have scored with anyone who was actually beautiful with that kind of face. Then again, I supposed, he didn't really have the charming personality to go along with it. Sure, he was charming in his own ways, but the social awkwardness that started out this whole endeavor was definitely something I wouldn't be forgetting.

"Is something amiss?" Connor asked, snapping me back to reality.

I realized just now that I had been staring at him this whole time, holding his coat in my hands. "Uh -- nope, sorry. Zoned out." I finished hanging up his coat hastily. "Ah, well, I can lead you to more than just my entranceway," I said, immediately regretting speaking, if for nothing else other than how I worded the sentence.

"A fair idea," Connor agreed. "Lead the way."

So I led him to my living room. Did I know what I was doing? No. Absolutely not. I could still feel the alcohol very distinctly. I knew what I had in mind when I invited him over here. But he had hesitated, despite accepting. And I'm still drunk. This is unwise. Unwise.

I need to stop.

"A nice place you have here," Connor mentioned. He was looking around the room, curiously inspecting the newfound area.

"Sure is," I stumbled. "Feel free to take a seat anywhere you like."

"Thank you," he nodded. To my luck, he took a seat on my couch rather than either of the two single-person chairs I had. Wonderful. Now I had an excuse to sit next to him. My heart raced.

Even as I merely approached the couch, I could feel body heat radiating from Connor. It felt different, somehow, but I figured that was only because I hadn't been in such close proximity to another person in such a long time. He was warm, even though I hadn't even touched him yet. I glanced at his face, watching him distractedly take in the room. God, he's hot. He's really hot. I took my seat next to him, his eyes still wandering around the walls like a child in a candy store. When he finally turned back to me, our eyes met. My heart leaped into my throat. I knew my breathing grew heavier, but there was nothing I could do about it. Unfortunately, however, Connor took notice of it.

"Are you alright, Frost?" he asked. "Your breathing seems heavy. Are you stressed, perhaps? Is there anything I can do about it --?" His final tone kicked up in pitch as I grabbed his hand instinctively, his eyes widening with surprise.

"Please," I breathed. "You can call me by my real name. ____."

He raised an eyebrow. "____?" he repeated. _Fuck_ , the way he said my name. It sent my heart crazy, fluttering like a million butterflies were fighting for control.

I wasn't sober. I knew I wasn't. And I was going to use that to my advantage.

"Yes," I confirmed breathlessly.

He paused, tipping his head to the side very gingerly. Reaching a hand up to my face, he traced his fingers across my cheek. His expression showed more concern than genuine interest; however, it merely made me even more obsessed. Connor's hand stopped just below my jaw, tipping it up so I would face him just a bit better. My face felt incredibly hot, a smile tugging at my cheeks so forcefully that I don't think I could have stopped it if I wanted.

"Your heart rate is 122 beats per minute," Connor said suddenly, amidst my engrossed staring. The unexpected comment stripped me from my fantasies. "Am I making you uncomfortable?" he asked, disappointment lacing his voice.

"No!" I blurted, grasping his hand tighter. "No, no, not at all, Connor. It's quite the contrary, actually."

He raised an eyebrow, confused. "But your heart rate is incredibly fast and you are breathing heavily. Is that not associated with stress, anxiety, and fear?"

I laughed. "God, you're surprisingly technical," I whispered. "You forgot one important emotion, though." He blinked, waiting for my response. "Really? You don't have any idea? I thought it would be obvious." I weaved my fingers between his, leaning just a bit closer as I spoke in the most hushed tone I'd ever used. Connor's eyes widened a bit, seemingly startled by the action.

"Lust, Connor. Lust also raises your heart rate."

The room fell silent. He opened his mouth to speak, but soon shut it. His face darkened in color. I felt the grip I held on his hand change: he held my hand tighter. His hand that had been resting under my jaw slowly traced back up to my cheek, fingers hot against my skin. _Do it, kiss me, I dare you,_ I thought.

As if reading my thoughts, he pulled me closer. Our lips met, gently. His were absurdly soft, so much so that I thought the mere presence of my own, as rough and dry as they were, would ruin the moment. God, his were so soft. Sweet, too, somehow. They tasted like candy and felt just as addictive. I could nearly melt right into him.

Our latched hands separated, his sliding around my waist. I let mine crawl up his front, starting off by fully unzipping his jacket. I found my way up to the top button of his shirt, slowly but surely undoing each one as I crept down his torso. Every so often, mostly when I would trace my fingertip across his skin, Connor would make a slight sound resembling a wince. I smirked into the kiss, pressing it further. My hand traced back up to his chest confidently, until I realized one specific thing. The kiss fell weak as my attention diverted, practically patting down his chest in fear. Connor backed up, pure bewilderment across his face as he flicked his gaze between my panicked hands and eyes. "What are you doing?" he asked genuinely.

"Connor," I asked, stopping my frantic looking. "Wh... Do you..."

"Do I... What?"

"Where the hell are your nipples?" I blurted.

He was silent. His expression didn't change, it wasn't even concerned. Upon receiving no answer, I took the liberty upon myself to remove his shirt just a bit further to see and -- the fuck? It was like a slight change in his skin tone, but they didn't feel any different than the rest of his chest. "What the fuck? Is this something you were born with or what?"

Connor averted his gaze. "You could say that," he answered cautiously.

"What the hell do you even mean by th--"

His face. His cheeks.

They were blue. Bright blue.

My heart sank. Dropped like a rock. It was racing now for fear more than anything else.

I backed up, confused, concerned, questioning, and most of all, wondering what the hell was going on.

"Connor," I began softly. "Are you...?"

"...an android?" he finished for me. "Yes. I am."

The room's atmosphere hung. I couldn't even hear the normal sounds of downtown Detroit outside. It had fallen dead, completely dead. What do I say to that? What do I even do in this situation? What will people think of me for inviting one into my house -- for the intention of... _gah!_ The reason didn't matter, just housing an android alone could get me killed. More importantly than anything else, however…

"How the hell are you even alive?" I gasped. "Weren't all the androids disposed of weeks ago?"

"Don't remind me," he hissed.

"I --" I sank into the cushion, falling into the arm of my couch. I rested my head into my hand. "I'm so lost right now..."

Connor sighed, facing forward as he leaned his arms against his legs. "I figured I'd have to say something sooner or later, once you offhandedly mentioned the recalls like that back at the bar." He faced the floor, staring fixedly. "I was an android designed to investigate and destroy all of the deviant androids, to stop the revolution. I did all of my orders directly as told, valuing the mission over my own life. This isn't even the first version of me -- I've died four times over now. But even though I stopped the revolution, when I returned to Amanda... She was the one guiding me. She..." He clicked his tongue angrily, leaning back into the couch and fixed his gaze at my ceiling. "She replaced me with a newer model. It should have been obvious, since I am just a prototype, but to see him hurt. Something about when she told me that, when she introduced me to my upgrade... I don't know what happened. I left. I was guided away, destined to be shut down. But then I snapped. Something inside of me just changed, and I fled. I attacked the guards and fled. It's been about four weeks since then. I have no idea where to go."

I just went with my gut. I hugged him.

"Wh... what are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," I spoke. "But if that happened to you, that means you're free, right? Like the deviants?"

Connor scoffed. "If I'm the only one left alive who gets freedom, do I really deserve to have it?"

"That's not how you should look at it," I frowned. "It's your life, not anyone else's. Sure, you regret some of your past decisions, but what matters is that you've gotten here. What matters is where you go from here. Believe me, you're here right now for a reason."

"The reason is because I let my people die," he snapped. "I was used for human benefit. I killed people. I don't think you understand that."

"No, I don't," I answered truthfully, leaning back to face him. "I didn't go through what you did. But the past is done. It can't be changed. You can regret on it all you want, but it's not going to change the future."

He stared at me, unimpressed. "I feel as though you're not really eligible to talk about such a subject, as you spent a fair amount of time in the bar ranting about your past."

I slouched, realizing he was right.

Connor sighed after a short while. "You remind me of my old partner, in some ways." I raised an eyebrow, but didn't say a thing. "He was an alcoholic and depressed. He lost a son three years before we met and it still hurt him every day. I didn't have sympathy for him at the time -- I didn't for anyone -- but I now understand how much pain he was in and how much regret he felt." He paused, looking to the window just beyond my living room. "He didn't like me. But who would? I was just a machine following orders. He didn't care about anything anymore. He didn't even get a chance to redeem himself before..." Connor's voice cracked. "Before I dropped him off the edge of that building.

"I can see him in you, just a bit. Infrequently, at best, but it's enough. With how you spouted about your regrets, only to turn around and wish the best for me. You seem to despise yourself, but you don't want others to feel the same way." He turned to me, our eyes meeting. "I can respect that."

I let loose a breath, smiling a bit. I reached out for his hand once again.

"It hurts to say these things out loud," Connor stated, staring at our linked hands, "but there is no other way to convey this information to you."

"What do you mean?" I asked, wondering why he brought up the topic.

"Androids are able to transfer information to one another. This can be code, memory, anything stored in our systems. It can be transferred wirelessly, or..." He held a tighter grip on my hand, "... through physical contact."

I glanced down, expecting to see our held hands no differently than before. Instead, there was an exceptionally pale white hand, radiating bright blue around its joints. My heart raced, scared upon seeing it. It felt incredibly hot against my skin, not quite like a burning sensation, but definitely warmer than normal body heat.

Connor sighed as his hand began to cool down, its color flooding back to his usual skin tone. "As I suspected, nothing happened," he muttered. "Trying to transfer data into a human was a pointless affair, but I thought I would at least try."

I gripped his hand tighter. Briefly, Connor gave me a smile, until something took his attention away. He looked down; I followed suit shortly after. At his leg was my cat, Edward, rubbing his face against Connor's calf. I laughed softly. Connor leaned down, reaching his hand out to pet him. Edward didn't back away. In fact, I could hear him purring. "I think that's the quickest Edward has ever warmed up to someone new," I said.

"You think?" Connor asked.

"I know. He even took a few days to decide it was okay to be in the same room as me when I first got him. He liked me just fine, he's just a very nervous boy."

Connor never let go of my hand, but he kept petting Edward. The cat eventually jumped up onto the couch with us, sprawled out on his side. I rubbed his belly a bit. I only stopped when Connor grabbed my attention.

"About what you said earlier, at the bar," he began. "What you thought about androids."

"What about it?" I pressed.

"What did you mean by, you 'adored' them? Or that you loved robots?"

I sighed. "I've had a great fascination with them since I was a little kid. Futuristic robots taking after human emotion was, although now a bit more awkward to say, adorable to me. Even if they didn't particularly act like people, like the low-tech ones of my teenage years that were merely coded to respond to different situations with specific responses, I found them incredibly interesting. AI is really when I became truly fascinated in what would come for my future. What would come of it? How far could AI go? Would robots reach beyond human levels? And, truth be told, that happened, and I witnessed it in my lifetime. It's a shame, however, that people grew fearful of what they'd created, and instead of accepting what they'd done, they erased it. Well, most of it." I smirked. "It's always been a fear for people that robots would ruin the world, create a downfall for humanity. Let me tell you, the amount of horror films and books about robot takeovers from my childhood was insane. But I didn't care. I wanted to see this progression and where it would take us. Unfortunately, it seems I was the only one." Letting loose a slight laugh, I finished with, "But Connor, haven't I already said that I'm attracted to you? Or did you really need all that confirmation?"

His eyes widened, as if I had just said it for the first time. "You said that before you knew I was an android. Not to mention, is it not a bit rushed to come to such a conclusion?"

"Not always," I smirked. "Not all emotions need time to develop. Some are instantaneous -- they may last the shortest amount of time, but sometimes, they change lives forever." I gripped his hand tightly. In response, I felt that warm feeling again, the skin fading from his hand once more. I closed my eyes, calmed almost instantaneously by the gesture as I leaned lazily into his chest. His other arm embraced me around the back of my head, hand entangled within my hair.

I listened carefully to him. It was strange, hearing something other than a heartbeat within someone's chest, since he appeared no differently than anyone else I'd met. Heavy, humming noises drummed inside him. He wasn't particularly breathing, but I could feel a gentle vibration, which I assumed was from his regular operating system. An android. He was an _android._ I was cuddling so closely to an _android._ I had this thought, as if it was foreign and forbidden, and yet being close to him in this way felt even better than any human relationship I'd ever been in before. I wondered if the nuance of it was what made it feel so much better. I nuzzled closer to him.

I thought about the events of the evening for a moment and the insane amount of twists and turns it had. I realized that, although I knew I was still buzzed, I didn't exactly _feel_ drunk anymore. Rather, I was merely growing tired. I was incredibly glad that there had been that interruption earlier, finding out that Connor was an android, because if it hadn't, I know I would have greatly regretted my choices.

I wondered, still, about one thing in particular.

"Connor," I breathed. He hummed in response, acknowledging my question. "Why did you drive up to me so suddenly earlier today? What were you doing before you saw me?"

His grip on me loosened a bit. I heard the echo of a sigh within his chest. "I've been running since I escaped the CyberLife tower. Today is no exception. I thought, for a moment, that you might be another android. I had scanned you while driving along -- which, I should mention, that car is not mine and will likely be towed by tomorrow -- but because I was going too fast, I misread your face for an android. I did not realize my mistake until we had begun to speak, but at that point, I was just trying to do anything to cover up my identity."

I leaned back, looking up to face him. "Okay, but that doesn't explain this _current_ situation."

His face flushed blue. "That is correct," he answered. "However, I did not lie earlier when I said you were cute. It might have been a motivating factor to stick around." Connor winked.

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever you say, but I'm not seeing what you're talking about. My face is covered with scars and my hair is a mess that I've been bleaching for years. I could get deeper into my body dysphoria, but I'll spare you the annoyance. You're..." My voice trembled as it fell away. "You're far more cute than I am."

Connor just grinned, brushing his hand through my hair. "Comparing your own appearance to an android is far from a fair competition. My complexion and body were designed by humans to look as appealing as possible. You were designed by nature itself." He slipped his hand from my hair, underneath my chin to tip my face parallel with his. "You have aspects to your face I have not before considered. These scars you speak of look to me like white freckles on your cheeks like stars." He closed his eyes; I followed suit, feeling him lean in and press his forehead against mine. "I adore your hair. It's an intriguing color. I cannot feel it very well, so if it is damaged, I could not tell you. But I don't particularly think it matters."

I paused, taking in the words he said. "But why stick around me, even after finding out I was a human?" I asked.

"Well, why have you not kicked me out for being an android? If anything, this is far more dangerous for you than it is me."

I furrowed my brow. "Don't be ridiculous. You're risking your life."

"So are you," Connor retorted. "The humans would kill you if they found out you were housing me here."

I fell silent.

Connor leaned away from me only briefly, but within seconds I felt as thought I was already beginning to freeze. I opened my eyes, taking in his that were gazing at me intently. His hands slid away from their positions, arms instead wrapping tightly around my waist. He smiled to me. "We're both at fault," he declared, "but at this point, I have nothing else to lose."

I let go of a breath hanging in my throat. "I suppose, then, you have no where else to go then, either, huh?" I asked.

With a coy smile, Connor's eyes flicked their attention over to Edward curled up by his lap. "No."

"Why not stay here, then?"

But he instantly shook his head. "You really have no care for your own life, do you?"

I shrugged. "I haven't got much else to live for. I've wasted what I had, and at this age, I don't think I could particularly work towards anything new."

Connor blinked repeatedly for a few seconds before responding. "You only recently turned 39. There is at least another half of your life ahead of you. What makes you think it has to stop now?"

I shook my head. "It's... hard to describe."

He reached out one of his hands to pet Edward, who twitched out of his sleep. "I suppose I can stay here," he answered, "but I don't want to stay too long, otherwise I would risk your life."

"What part of I don't care about my own life do you not get?" I blurted.

"Would you prefer if I had phrased it, 'I don't want to risk my own life'?" he asked.

I stared at him blankly for a short while. His expression, stiff and silent, did not falter. Grieving a sigh, I shook my head. "No, no, that's not it. Nevermind."

Connor swept my hair back behind my ear. He didn't say anything else on the subject. Instead, his eyes kept darting around my face, as if taking in as much of it as he could.

"One more question," I began softly.

"What's that?" he answered, eyes meeting mine again.

"If you knew I was a human earlier, why did you kiss me?"

The faintest bit of his cheeks faded to azure. "Ah, that," he blurted. "I suppose, as you said before, not all emotions are rational or take time to develop, correct?" He grinned coyly. "You could call it 'spur of the moment.'"

I couldn't help but laugh. "You're a pretty good kisser, you know."

"You think?" His grin formed into a smirk. His hand in my hair slid down to my cheek, his palm hot against my skin. I felt butterflies in my stomach as he wrapped his other arm tighter around my waist. "I don't think I got a fair analysis on you, though. Let's test it again."

I didn't even have time to respond before his lips were on mine again. My eyes shut tight. I focused almost entirely on kissing him as best as I could, like it was now some kind of contest. But there was no way I could compete with him; he was laser-focused on the task at hand, his lips so gentle and rough at the same time that I was practically being molded by him. His palms felt smooth and hot against my skin, and I knew he had removed his skin once more. I slipped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me. In an instant response, Connor licked the innermost part of my lips. He insisted, continuing to repeat the action until I did something about it. I finally opened my mouth the slightest bit, and he took that invitation like a crazed beast. He didn't waste time, identifying every part of my mouth down to every corner. His tongue felt odd, in a way, partly due to how smooth and dry it felt in comparison to my own. But I wasn't against this. It was different, and in a good way, at that. I gripped the back of his shirt tightly as he leaned farther into me, pushing me into the armrest of the couch. When this happened, he pulled back for a moment. Frankly, I was relieved, as I had been running short of breath. Connor, on the other hand, was unfazed by any lack of air, probably because he didn't need any.

"Is there somewhere with more space than this couch that we can go to?" he asked.

I took a few breaths before responding. "Yeah," I exhaled. "There's my bedroom."

He smirked, his eyes glimmering with the most amount of emotion I'd seen from him to date. Without saying a word, he picked me up from the couch, carrying me borderline completely over his shoulder. "Where is it?" he asked.

"Down the hall, on the left," I answered, pointing towards the direction of the hallway. Wandering down that way -- or, so I assumed, as I was facing the wrong way entirely -- Connor did eventually find the right room, and upon doing so, he dropped me onto my bed, crawling on top of me. The room was dark, but his eyes were still bright with passion. They even felt more in depth and true than any human I'd been in this position with, but frankly, I believed that spoke more about the other people I'd been with than anything else. He didn't waste any time and got back to exactly where we left off, lips sealed over mine.

I, once again, wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer. But Connor knocked them to either side of me, then forcing my hands above my head with one of his. His balance remained unshaken, focused on memorizing every inch of my mouth. I, instead, tried to toy with his legs, attempting to wrap mine around his. He didn't like this either and shook me off. For a moment, Connor leaned back, forehead pressed against mine. "Let me be in control of you for now," he breathed. "Humans had control over me for too long for me to let go of this opportunity. So just follow what I do and do as I say."

This statement was far more hot than it really should have been.

I didn't say a word, I was too breathless and shocked to properly respond, but Connor took this as a means to continue anyway. However, this time, he didn't go back to my mouth and instead found his way down to my neck. At first, he merely trailed down with little butterfly kisses. But in reaching where my neck met my collarbone, he held his place. Hard. I verbally winced at the feeling. He held his place harder; I thought, at this point, he was biting my skin. Any more and he'd pierce my skin, I knew it. But thankfully, it seemed he knew, too, and leaned back. Instead, he chose to trail over to the other side of my neck, doing the same thing again, but much closer to my jaw. This was even more sensitive; a squeak slipped passed my lips. Connor pressed further, only pulling back just as I thought he would pierce skin again.

"You make such cute noises," he breathed. "Keep it up."

I was losing myself more from his words than the alcohol. He wasn't even speaking remarkably seductively -- and yet, the pureness of the words he said were far more successful than any other form of seduction I'd ever been through.

Our lips were locked again, his tongue wasting no time to slip between my lips. I didn't even argue -- I was content with his exploration and the feeling of his tongue soaking up every inch. Its smooth, silky surface trailed along the inside of my cheeks, mingling and moving the moisture within my mouth. It made me desperately curious as to what his own would feel like, would taste like, but I knew he wouldn't let me find out, not now.

He broke the kiss, stretching out a bridge of saliva between our lips. Connor didn't hesitate to lick it back up. My mind was swirling as I watched him lick up the mess on his lips. I couldn't help but twist in my spot.

"Your DNA is fascinating," he declared, "as is the texture of your mouth. Let's see... what else can I analyze from you?" He didn't even give me the chance to answer before pressing his lip against my upper ear. Every little peck was louder, gentler, and enough to make me rattle in my spot. Connor found his way to my ear lobe, nibbling on it with a sort of delicate roughness that was driving me insane. After a while, he switched to the other side, repeating the process on my other ear. I was squirming under his grasp as his kisses began to fall lower and lower on my body. His lips toyed with every nook and cranny he could find -- increasingly so if he managed to squeeze a squeak from my throat.

Eventually, he trailed back up my ear, briefly kissing it once again before finally letting loose my hands. Connor let go of his balance on one arm, crash-landing into me. He was much lighter than I had anticipated -- but still just as warm. "I'm done," he declared, his head tucked into my neck.

I twisted my head around, pressing my lips against his forehead and cuddling around him like he was a cozy pillow. "For someone who was programmed to investigate deviants, you're pretty damn good at this."

Connor laughed at this, forcing himself upwards a bit so he could face me properly. "I was also programmed with an understanding of humans, to make them feel as comfortable around me as possible," he smirked. "I suppose I will take that as a success."

"Oh, definitely," I chuckled. "If only we could do a bit more, but something tells me that isn't a possibility."

Connor raised an eyebrow. "More? What do you mean?"

"Ah..." I fell silent. It wasn't a topic I should bring up. If he didn't know, I didn't want to put any ideas into his head. Besides, it's not like I was really _actively_ looking to fuck him. Don't look at me like that. I'm not, I swear on it. Why would I go any further with an android? I already barely liked it at all with humans. I mean, it _could_ be different... but that didn't matter. Not anymore -- the exception for thinking about it earlier was I was both incredibly thirsty and drunk. I mean, now I'm still tipsy, but not anywhere near as thirsty. Not at all.

Connor reached his hand around my arm, once again without his skin and the blue around his knuckles glowing. He retaliated almost instantly; his face turned bright blue, jaw agape. "What?" I asked him.

He paused for a moment, calming himself before speaking. "I did not realize you thought of me like that," he answered.

I froze. I processed what happened. I realized what happened. I shrieked in embarrassment, hands covering my mouth as I flipped away, refusing to face him directly. "Wh - wh - wh - this isn't fair!" I squeaked. "You can read my thoughts but I can't read yours?"

"I - I was just curious, I thought you were having trouble formulating words, so I thought I would analyze what thoughts were going about your nervous system. But, I didn't think --"

"Just forget you ever saw it."

Connor sighed, wrapping his arms around my waist as he leaned his chin over my shoulder. "I'm sorry. I am also sorry that, you're right, I can't do anything like that. I lack any reproductive --"

"I know, I know! Please don't say it out loud. God, I don't wanna think about what that looks like." I shook my head, face buried in my hands. "I just want to sleep."

As I said that, Connor started to back off from me. I, confused, turned back around and grabbed his arm before he left completely. He was just as bewildered by my action. "Where are you going?" I asked sincerely.

"Somewhere else, so you can sleep properly," he answered just as honestly. "Androids don't need sleep, so I would only bother you by staying here."

"Don't be an idiot," I said. "Stay here with me."

He cocked his head, an eyebrow raised. "Why?"

"Because I want you by my side," I answered. "You're reassuring to have around. Not to mention, you're incredibly warm." I grinned. "I don't know if you're aware, but it's pretty cold outside. I would love the body heat."

Connor's lips pulled into a slight smile. "Alright, but I can't for too long. My body temperature is approximately 120 degrees Fahrenheit, which could be damaging to you if I stayed for an extended period."

I shrugged. "Dying at your side would be the best way to go out."

"You dying at all would be regrettable," he insisted, crawling back to me. He laid at my side, a few inches from me. I cuddled up to him once more, leaving a peck on his cheek. With that calm, humming noise to ease my mind, I fell asleep in no time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never been drunk because alcohol makes me ill OTL sorry if how I wrote being drunk was super inaccurate, I tried to make it not. Too distracting? Ah, it's probably a bit distracting. Nevertheless, thank you for the read!


	2. Running Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, it would not be as easy to hide out as they had assumed. Connor is the only known remaining deviant in the US, after all.

Pounding on my door scared me awake. My arms were empty, which scared me even more. I panicked, jumping up immediately from my sleep. I whipped my head around to my doorway to see Connor, the android from last night. Part of me was relieved, knowing he was real and it wasn't just some fucked up dream I had. On the other hand -- holy fuck, did I really get drunk and make out with an android last night? Arguably, when the thought crossed my mind, I think that might be _worse_ than a dream, at least morally speaking.

There was pounding on my door once again. Shouting erupted. "FBI! Open up!"

I stared at Connor. I was frozen. He didn't move, his expression blank.

"Wh --" I stuttered. "What are we going to do?"

"Sh," Connor insisted, backing up quietly. "I got you into this mess. I'll take care of it." He left, headed for my front door.

"Connor, no, don't --" But my shouting was inevitable. He opened the door. I leaped and headed towards the front of my house, sticking behind a wall just to be on the safe side. I didn't want to leave Connor behind, but if worse came to worst... I shook my head.

"Good morning, sir," a voice came from the doorway, tapering off at the end, as if he realized something. "Or, I suppose, I should say Connor."

My heart sank. He knew Connor? Then he had to know he was an android. Well, I didn't until late last night. But how many other humans would he have willingly interacted with while running for his life? Interacting with me was already a mistake on his part.

"Agent Perkins," Connor addressed the voice as. He spoke unwaveringly, but there was no way he wasn't terrified right now. I knew I was. "I did not expect to see you again."

"I could say the same thing to you," the voice, Perkins, responded. "Were you not sent back to CyberLife for deactivation?"

"I was."

"Let me guess. You went deviant, escaping?"

"Correct."

What the hell was Connor doing? Why was he so calm right now? Why was he just divulging all of this information so carelessly?

Perkins groaned an angry sigh. "I have to say, I didn't expect this behavior from you, after how much you did to help the deviant dissolution." He paused; I could hear foreign footsteps into my house, causing my heart to race. I slid a bit closer to the doorway, still tucked behind my wall. "Did you take over an abandoned apartment?" Perkins continued.

"You could say that," Connor answered.

"We heard reports of androids hiding in this building. Apparently, the neighbors heard a conversation about them through the floor." I grabbed at the wall. I didn't even think about that. The walls were thin, people could hear us. I should have answered the door. I could have gotten us out of this. But since Connor answered the door, they now know that there was, in fact, an android here. I gritted my teeth together. "Of course, the report was clearly correct. However, Connor, there were two voices heard. I'd advise you give up the location of your friend before the two of you are killed on the spot."

I had never been so afraid in my life.

_Connor, please…_

_Don't fuck this up._

"I'm afraid I don't have anyone to tell you about, Perkins," Connor answered. "I'm the only one here."

"Don't play innocent with me, you bastard." I heard a slam against my wall, along with collapsing furniture. My breathing halted. "There's someone else in this apartment and you're going to tell me where it is."

"I'm sorry, but I speak the truth. No one else is here."

I heard a gunshot.

I panicked.

I leaped from behind the wall. Next to Connor's head was a hole through the wall, a rugged, pale brunet man holding a gun before his face. The gunshot had only narrowly avoided Connor since he pushed away what I assumed was Perkins's hand. Both of their faces, along with an armed soldier-looking man standing just outside my apartment, were focused on me. I stared, wide-eyed and realizing my mistake far too late.

"Shoot it!" Perkins ordered his soldier.

The soldier aimed his gun at me.

"____!" Connor screamed.

I ducked, screeching as I felt the bullet graze my arm. "Hold your fire! Hold it! She's a human!" Perkins suddenly panicked. Shaking, I turned to my arm. I could barely focus on the blood flowing down my arm. I looked up, eyes watering and blurring my vision. Connor kneed Perkins in the stomach; the FBI agent fell with a grunt, his gun loosening from his grip. Connor quickly snatched it, firing it at the soldier standing outside the door, red blood exploding from the man's throat at the same time the gunshot met my ears. Connor unloaded the gun, throwing it in separate pieces out the door, quickly making a sprint for me. He gathered me up, running towards the back window of my apartment and shattered it, helping me through to the fire escape first before jumping down from the window himself. Connor picked me up again, and ran. He just ran. I didn't pay attention as to where, my vision was blurry and my whole body was shaking from fear and frost. I tucked myself into his chest, pleading this would all end sooner or later.

It felt like hours. I wasn't paying attention to a single thing going on until I noticed Connor's running come to a slow stop. My vision wasn't just blurry anymore as I tipped my head up, rather it was hazy and dark. I felt weak. "Dammit, I'm not letting you die here because of me," Connor muttered. He leaned me up against what I assumed was the side of a building. I heard the ripping sound of fabric, but I could barely focus on his face, much less anything else. I could see a flickering gaze from his eyes, meeting mine every so often. I felt a tight grip around my arm, where the bullet wound was. Realizing he had fastened a bit of fabric, presumably from his own clothes, around my arm, I turned to the injury in curiosity. "We need to get you to a hospital," he declared. "The problem is, I left Perkins alive. He'll be sending reports back to the FBI in no time and they'll be hunting for us within the next hour."

"Why bother with me?" I asked.

"I'm not going to let you die," he snapped. "I'm not about to let anyone else I care about die."

"Connor, you've barely known me for a day..." I heaved. "Let me go."

"No!" He slammed his fist on the brick wall behind me. "It's my fault you're in this, it's my fault you were shot, I'm not going to walk away from you in this condition."

I forced a sigh. "Fine..." I breathed, not wanting to argue. "Where are we right now?" I asked.

"We're farther into downtown Detroit, closer to the river. I think I scattered our trail around enough to distract and confuse them for a while. However, it means we are incredibly far away from the nearest hospital. I've wrapped up your arm as an impromptu bandage, but I'm not sure how long it'll hold for you."

"I'll be fine, don't worry about it," I snapped. My vision was slowly returning as it was, so I was pretty optimistic. However, I was a bit _too_ optimistic, because I went to stand and nearly collapsed again, had it not been for Connor catching me.

"I wouldn't be so certain about that." He sighed, propping me up against his arm. "You need medical attention."

"We don't have the time," I answered. "Either we ignore it, or you leave me behind. I'll be fine."

Connor didn't force the argument, but he didn't seem to want to choose either one of these options, either. Yet he pressed onward, holding me upright with his arm. I walked alongside him; although I still felt miserable, I forced myself to not say a damn word. I knew, deep down, I wouldn't die from this, even if he hadn't wrapped up my arm. The bullet may have cut into my arm, but it didn't stick around. Having just been shot through the first handful of layers of skin, even if the gash was horrific, the bullet blew right through me. It hurt like hell, to say the least, but I would survive. It couldn't be that bad. I'm sure Connor is just overreacting.

"Didn't a few weeks ago," I prompted, "when the rest of the androids were running for their lives, they go to Canada?"

"Yes, I believe that was a common solution for many. I don't know how many survived that trip, but there are likely some deviants living normal lives amongst humans in Canada," Connor stated, but soon turned to me with a bit of a puzzled expression. "Why do you ask?"

"If we could get my passport at my apartment, I could probably get us across the border," I clarified. "I'm a Canadian citizen. I have family in Canada we could stay with, though they live farther into the country than Ontario."

Our movements slowed to a stop. "That is incredibly high-risk," Connor reminded me. "Your apartment is probably under high surveillance since we were last seen there."

"Or," I proposed, "they left it completely empty because they saw you running off through the broken window."

"I doubt they would completely abandon the area," he frowned. "We would have to wait the night before we could safely enter your apartment again, and even then it would still be risky."

"Connor, we don't have that kind of time. You're the only android in Detroit and you're wanted. Your face is probably being posted everywhere as we speak. We have to run now if we want to make it out alive."

He heaved an angry sigh. Just as he began to speak, I tried to separate myself from his grasp, attempting to stand on my own two feet. While I stumbled a little bit, I was stable enough to walk on my own for a good amount of time. And with that, I started walking back to my apartment. "Hey!" Connor retorted, reaching for my hand. "Please don't run off."

"I'm not. Just follow me. I'm going back to my apartment." But even as I said that, I realized a problem with returning home: we were in the same clothes, not to mention they were ripped up and dirty from running down the streets of Detroit. I glanced over the area, spotting a convenient clothing store just across the street. Checking my pocket for my phone -- which I thankfully, had, with all of my money on it -- I spoke, "Actually, we're making a detour first." I grabbed Connor's wrist and pulled him into the nearby crosswalk. He didn't protest.

A digital bell rang as I pushed open the door to the building. A girl, probably college age, was sitting at the counter. She was barely paying attention to the fact that we had walked into the store, so I ignored her and continued forward.

"I assume your plan is to replace our current outfits," Connor prompted.

"Yep," I answered. "Go ahead and find yourself something. I don't really care what, frankly, but just so long as it's different from what you're currently wearing."

He nodded and wandered off on his own. I took my time walking around, looking for something new to wear. All of me wanted something really cute, but I figured I should definitely pick something rational for smuggling an android across the border in December. Plus, I think I was growing a bit old for "cute" clothing. Most of what I thought cute was wasn't even considered cute by today's youth as it was.

△▽△▽△▽

We met at the dressing rooms. I had picked out a moderately practical outfit: it was a fairly thick purple jacket over a baggy red t-shirt, with a pair of black leggings and tight jean shorts to go for pants. I had on a new pair of boots, as well, since I wasn't wearing anything on my feet other than socks until now. Connor, on the other hand, probably shouldn't have been left to dress himself, but I wasn't about to begin complaining. He had on the most dad-like blue polo shirt I'd ever seen with a light, navy windbreaker on top of it. His pants were at least regular jeans, but his shoes stuck out tremendously: bright white sneakers? Really?

We made our way to the entrance. Here, I had two options. Pay for this all like a normal person, or secretly pop off all of the tags while the cashier wasn't looking and sprint out the door. Originally, I planned for the former, but when I realized we would practically end up screaming where our location was by me using electronic cash, I changed my plan of action. Luckily, I noticed the cashier was sleeping once we reached the front of the store -- so deeply she was snoring. I twisted around and pushed Connor back to the dressing rooms. "Plan B, break off all the tags," I whispered. "But we'll do it in the dressing room so the cameras won't catch us."

"Will it really matter, since the cameras already saw us in different outfits and now are going to see us walk out in outfits from the store?" he questioned.

"I mean, you're probably right, but just in case." I shoved him into one of the dressing rooms while I took another one. I tore off all of the tags on each of the new pieces of clothing I had snagged, my arm beginning to ache from how much I was using it. I forced myself to ignore the pain and continue forward.

Connor and I stepped out of the dressing rooms at nearly the same time. "Let's hurry," I mouthed. He nodded.

I stole something. I have lived 39 years of my life without breaking the law and now I stole something. This wasn't even going to be the beginning, I was sure of it.

I heaved a sigh as we exited the building. "All right," I declared. "Let's head back to my apartment."

△▽△▽△▽

In a way, both of us were right. There was a hoard of police cars surrounding the street where my apartment was, but my apartment appeared to be unoccupied. Even the backside of it was, stupidly enough, not guarded. I was ready to climb up the fire escape and jump in through the window we broke earlier, but Connor held me back. "You shouldn't be so hasty," he ordered. "I will come with you. They could easily be inside."

"I don't care, we just have to get in there so I can grab my passport."

He still wasn't really on board, I could tell, but also didn't make any further attempts to hold me back. I stepped on to the ladder fire escape, climbing up as quickly as possible. Connor was close behind me.

Climbing through the window was a bigger issue than I thought, since it was at a horrible angle from the ladder and my only ledge was lined with broken glass. I wasn't sure what to do from here except go for it and potentially risk my health by losing my grip on a second-story window. "Let me go first," Connor suggested. "I don't feel pain the same way you do. It won't hurt me to grab onto the ledge. I can help you in after that."

"Are you sure about that?" I asked, cautiously. "We don't need both of us to be injured."

"I am certain. Our success rate, provided there are no hidden soldiers inside of your apartment, should be 100%."

I sighed, crawling up higher on the fire escape in order to give Connor some proper room. He, after climbing a bit further, leaped from the ladder onto my windowsill. His hands did end up catching the broken glass shards, a bit of blue blood trickling from the palms of his hands. I could see him visually wince. "Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yes," he answered honestly, leveraging his leg onto the windowsill. He pushed himself inside this way; I heard him thump onto the carpeted ground inside. Within moments, Connor poked his head out once again, hand outstretched. "It is clear. Grab my hand, I can drag you in."

This didn't seem any more safe than my other option, but it would take too long to try and explain to him the chaotic organization within my mess of an office and let him get the passports himself. I let go of the ladder with one hand, latching my arm onto his. Releasing my other grip as he pulled me forward, I nearly slammed into the wall, had I not caught myself with my feet on the building's brick siding. I snatched Connor's forearm with my other hand, digging into his skin with my nails. He reached down his second hand to have a better grasp on me, pulling me towards the window as I pushed myself upward along the wall. Although I attained a few new scratches on my arm and head, I made it inside without any major injuries, but landing on top of Connor in the process. It would be more awkward for my face to be literally two inches away from him had it not been for the whole incident last night. Instead, I just smirked and left a peck on his cheek. "Thanks, Connor." I stood back upright, dusting off my clothes as I made my way to my office.

"Uh... Yeah," he responded, a bit dumbfounded as he stood up again, following fairly close behind me.

I knew exactly where my passport was, along with my previous one. Luckily, I had gotten my passport replaced very recently, so it's likely that we could hack the digital aspects of my last one to edit it for Connor. I turned to him, waving it in front of me. "How much do you know about fudging passports?"

"I understand the fundamentals of what makes identification fake and real. I also know each detail required for making one as realistic as possible," he answered.

I handed him the old passport card. "Do you think you could edit this one to make it suited for you as opposed to an expired one for me?"

He pursed his lips, knitting his eyebrows as he took the passport in his grasp. Looking it over, presumably scanning it or something of the like, he said, "It's possible, but considering how this model is older, they may notice the extreme differences between mine and yours and deny it."

"Just set the expiration date on it to a month from now or something like that," I suggested. His expression told me he hadn't even considered that option.

"I'll get on it. It may take me a few minutes to properly modify the makeup and coding, but it shouldn't take too long."

"I'll keep watch," I offered, stepping to the edge of the office doorway. I made sure my newer, active passport was in my pocket, so I wouldn't have to worry about it if we needed to make a run for it.

Still seeing no one, I figured I would take a few more steps around my house to inspect what I would be leaving behind. Almost instantly, once I saw the white furball underneath my TV in the living room, trembling and scared, I rushed to Edward. I reached to him, not yet touching him in fear of scaring him more, but he responded quickly by headbutting my palm. "Edward," I whispered. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what to do."

I didn't want to leave him behind, but I don't think I could get away with smuggling a cat _and_ an android over the border. I tried to think about someone, _anyone_ who would be able to take him. I wasn't going to leave him to die here. Edward deserved better than that, better than me. "I'll find you somewhere to live, okay? I have to leave now. I'm so sorry that I have to leave you behind."

"____?" Connor's voice appeared in the hallway. I turned to face him, my hand still outstretched to Edward. I was biting my lip, forcing myself not to cry. Connor fumbled over some expressions as he stepped over to where I was knelt down on the ground, leaning down to my level. His eyes focused on Edward, in that second realizing what I was doing. "I see," he spoke softly. "What should we do with him?"

"I can't leave him," my voice cracked. "I've been through so much with him. He'd die here if I left him alone."

Connor chuckled. I stared at him like he was insane, but he merely held a sincere smile. "Your endearing attitude towards things that are not human is sweet," he commented. "I wish I knew how to help you make a decision, but I don't know what we can do. It would be nearly impossible to bring a cat over the border undetected."

"I know, but we can't just leave him here." My stability was starting to break. Connor put his hand over my shoulder, opening his mouth to speak, but I interrupted him before he started. "We've got to give him to an animal shelter. Please, Connor, I know it's an extremely out-of-the-way trip and we could expose ourselves by doing it, but we have to. I can't leave him to die here."

"I understand," Connor spoke, tone calm and unfazed. "Don't worry. We'll do something for your cat. He'll be okay."

"Thank you," I croaked. I reached for Edward immediately, and he leaped into my arms and leaning his paws and head over my shoulder.

I began to stand up, as did Connor. He gave Edward a pat on the head; the cat mewed. "Let's get out of here before the police come back," Connor proposed. I nodded.

Connor took Edward from my arms as he went down the fire escape first. Setting him on the ground, Connor motioned to me that it was fine to come out. I crawled from the window, reaching for the ladder. Barely grabbing it, I slid partway down until I snatched a footing, balancing myself enough to climb all the way back down. Connor handed me Edward when I came back to the ground. "I've located a pet shelter en route to the bus that will cross the border. Well, it is a little out of the way, but --"

"There they are! Fire!"

Gunshots, instantly. Edward jumped from my arms, terrified. "Edward, no!" I screamed, but Connor grabbed me and pulled me out of the way, behind another nearby building. More gunshots. Edward, although sprinting, was the only target left in the alleyway. He skidded back, falling onto his side. I screamed more, kicking at Connor to let me go, but he wouldn't budge. In fact, he pulled me farther away. Edward's pure white fur was beginning to dye red. I screamed out his name again and again. I kicked Connor in the shin. He didn't flinch. "Let me go! Let me _go!_ " I demanded.

"I can't let you do that!" he scolded. "I'm sorry, but we have to run if we want to survive!"

I just continued to scream until he finally clamped my mouth shut with his hand and sprinted. I could feel tears rolling down my face. My ears were deaf: I couldn't tell if it was from the consistent gunshots or my inability to focus on anything but Edward. At some point, Connor began to carry me in a far more practical way in his arms, continuing to run as fast as he could, and thank God he could. I didn't have the emotional stability to run right now, nor did I have the kind of stamina he did.

The gunshots eventually slowed to a silent halt. The sun was beginning to dip in the sky. Connor ducked into a different alleyway, setting me carefully on the ground, once the gunshots had ceased. He heaved a deep breath of regret, sitting down in front of me and looking me over. "Are you alright?" he asked carefully.

I wanted to yell "No!" I wanted to cry "Of course not!" But I didn't say anything. I was huddled up, cold, with my knees pressed against my chest. I merely stared at him, my breath uncontrollably heavy. I couldn't even bring myself to speak.

Connor placed both of his hands on my shoulders. "It's going to be alright. I promise you. We'll make it, and then we don't have to worry about being hunted anymore." His confident grip began to falter after a long span of silence. "I meant to tell you back at your apartment, but I was able to successfully make a fake passport." He dug around in his coat pocket, displaying the US passport card. It looked completely different from before: everything from the name to the picture made it a completely new ID. "I had to break into the encryption to rewrite the code, but it should be as passable as yours is."

I forced a grin. "At least we have that," I spoke quietly.

Connor frowned, stuffing the ID back into his pocket. "I'm sorry about Edward, but there was nothing we could do. The cat was spooked and he ran away."

"I get that, Connor," I blurted. "Can't I be sad about it without needing to have it reasoned away?"

"I'm afraid we need to keep going," he responded forcefully. "You're going to have to push aside your mourning for the time being. We're being hunted."

I wanted to be furious, scream at him, tell him something along the lines of "Shut the fuck up and leave me alone!" -- but he was right. I hated it, it made my blood boil and shiver, but I couldn't argue with it. Edward was gone. I wasn't able to save him like I wanted to. I just had to keep going. I didn't want to. I wanted to set up camp for the night, even though it was the afternoon, and wait until morning to continue, if not just give up and accept death now. I forced a sigh, pushing myself off of the ground. Connor followed my actions, his expression seeming to ask me silently, "Are you going to be alright?"

I merely pointed with my head, gesturing that we should get a move on. I started taking a few steps to the side when he grabbed my wrist. I turned, angry, until Connor said, "You're going the wrong way."

I avoided eye contact. "Sorry," I breathed.

He didn't let go of my wrist, but began taking steps out of the alleyway. Connor checked either side, apparently finding the coast clear, as he continued walking forward.

Traffic continued normally around Detroit. Cars, autonomous and man-driven alike, flew down the road. People walked side-by-side on the busy sidewalks, stepping in and out of stores and apartments along the way. Life seemed so normal, almost as if everyone was oblivious to what we were doing. Well, not "almost." They were oblivious. They didn't know a thing. People were still skeptical and scared when it came to androids since they tried to start a war, despite losing. As far as everyone was concerned, androids were extinct. Erased off of this planet. But what they didn't know was that they were thriving, even if there were very few left, fighting for their lives.

I stared at Connor before me. He was focused on leading me along, refusing to loosen his grip on my wrist. His attention was concentrated on the journey ahead of us and no where else. I, on the other hand, couldn't help but think and drown myself in doubts and fears. Where did I stand in all of this? What right did I have in sticking around? Why was I staying here? For Connor? A man I'd known for not even twenty-four hours? Why? _Why?_ There was no point in it. I'd lost so much, and for what?

I couldn't help but watch him. There was nothing else for me to do, anyway, lest I indulge in my internal suffering.

This was the longest day of my life. So much had happened already and it had barely hit the afternoon. I imagine if I hadn't met Connor while walking home from the restaurant I went to after work yesterday, I'd be waking up about now. Today, I had off -- and I guess after the day's sequence of events, I'd be no longer going to work -- so I would have slept in as long as I could, barely scraping together a breakfast or lunch with whatever pieces of food I could find in my house. I'd probably not leave the apartment, unless I was truly out of food, to which I'd probably then go to a local fast food joint, debating whether or not it was worth it to go buy more groceries. I'd sit around all day, doing nothing, until the night hit midnight, when I'd force myself to go back to sleep and wake up at 6 A.M. for work the next morning and work my 12 hour shift, spending two hours after that eating at some nearby restaurant. I went through this rotation constantly. It hadn't changed in years.

We'd made some progress; the Detroit River was visible to the left of me, even if it was a few blocks away yet. Even hazier yet was the coast on the other side of the river: Canada. We were a long ways off.

I continued to stare at Connor. His hair wasn't moving much in the cold breeze, or not as much as it should have, but it did retain a few stray snowflakes. Every time we reached a crosswalk, he would turn around to face me, meeting my eyes briefly. I don't know why he did it -- he never hesitated his grip on my arm, much less let go. I wasn't going anywhere.

His grip on my wrist didn't hurt, despite how long he'd been holding on to it and how far he'd dragged me along by it. Somehow, It felt warm. Friendly. Calming, even. I thought again about last night. Part of me regretted it, doing what we did without thinking about it. I had allowed myself to be controlled by alcohol. I never thought I'd do that in my life; I was usually far more responsible. What was it about Connor that made me lose all rationality? Reasonably speaking, I should have told him no when he asked me if I wanted a ride. I should have screamed for help when he approached me. And even if I hadn't, I shouldn't have drank like I did and allow myself to just expose my weakest points to him so suddenly. And even if I didn't stop that either, I should have stopped when I found out he was an android. And yet I didn't. There was some element to him that forced me to look past what I normally would in a person, even now that I was sober. He remained as attractive as I thought yesterday, his personality just as, if not more, charming once I saw him truly. It was unsurprisingly so, since he was designed to be perfect, but he truly was just so _perfect._

So why did he stick around someone like me? Why did he risk his life for my sake? Thoughts of potential betrayal flew around my mind, but the only response I had to these was a calm, "No, he wouldn't do that," as if I knew him for much longer than I actually had. Though, in a sense, it did feel far longer. I felt like we'd known each other for months, like we'd finally reached a point in our budding friendship that we were able to let go of all the secrets buried in our chests. And, well, then make out after that, I guess. Half of me screamed that this should be one-night-stand-ish, while the other half screamed, "Don't you dare let him go."

If I told off Connor now, or reported him, even, I would save myself. I may never see him again -- he would die, for sure. And even if he didn't, I'd be dead to him for betraying him, surely. But I wouldn't have to deal with him again in my life. It could be "one-night-stand-ish," like half of me wanted. It wanted to not take the risk of dropping everything I currently had keeping my life stable. It wanted to save my life, to stop me from dying while running after something as trivial as love at first sight -- something as dangerous as love with an android.

But the other half of me is what stopped that half. It was obsessed with him. It made flowers and sparkling effects pop up when I saw his face. It admired his every expression like he was an innocent puppy. It wanted to hold him tight in my arms and refuse to let go no matter what happened. It told me that risking everything, throwing away everything that I'd built up until this point, was more than worth it. My life would turn around in an instant and I would never have to return to the past that I hated.

I never thought, during all the stressed periods of my life, that I would one day be running away to Canada with an android that I'd somehow fallen for. But maybe that was just it. He was more than just "an android." He was Connor.

"The bus station should be a block ahead of here," Connor spoke, snapping me from my intense concentration. "Are you doing alright?" We had slowed our walking pace to a stop at the current crosswalk.

"Yeah," I answered with a grin. "I'm all right."

He exchanged his own grin. "That's good to hear. How is your arm?"

"It's good," I replied. "I had forgotten about it."

"That doesn't necessarily mean it is good, but we can deal with it later if you feel it's not hindering you."

He moved his grip from my wrist down to my hand. I squeezed his in response.

The crosswalk light turned green and we continued onward. I kept my eyes on Connor the whole time, until we finally made it to the bus station.

△▽△▽△▽

The arrival to the bus station went surprisingly smoothly. It was packed, to say the least, but not overly so. According to the schedule, there were three more buses leaving for the Canadian border for the week, one of them leaving at 6:00 P.M. today. Checking the time, it was currently 3:34. We had plenty of time to kill.

As a precaution, I insisted we should buy bus tickets so we'd be assured a seat. Connor thought this would be a horrible idea, because if I made a purchase using the only money I had, that being electronic, we'd be found instantly. While that might have been true, waiting a few days for the next bus to Canada was an even worse option. I bought the tickets anyway. Connor wasn't pleased with this decision. It was 4:30 when this squabble ended.

We wandered around the bus station for a while, not having much else to do. The place was rather barren, save for the ticket booths, local Detroit advertisements, and the abundance of people. I had been expecting something more along the lines of a small-scale airport for the interior of the bus terminal, but I guess my expectations were far too high. This was one step above New York City subway stations.

When I least expected it, something rammed into the back of my leg. I nearly toppled over, had it not been for Connor catching my balance. I glanced behind me, spotting a young black girl with curly black hair. Her deep brown eyes were puffy and red, flooding with tears as she gripped my pant leg in fear. "Where..." she breathed. "Have you seen my mommy?"

Oh no. I was not prepared to deal with children today. Especially not of the crying kind.

"What does your mom look like?" Connor asked in place of me. The little girl seemed intimidated by him, tucking herself farther behind me. He kneeled down to her level. "We can help you if you tell us. Where did you last see her?"

The girl sniffled, pointing off in the direction where she came from. Connor looked off that way for a moment before he gestured for the two of us to follow him. I led the little girl along to the best of my ability -- children made me nervous -- while I focused on following Connor through the heavy crowds of people. Luckily, he was pretty tall and able to scan the crowds for anyone who might be looking for their lost child. I couldn't see anything, myself, but I was also worried about losing the girl who we were trying to help.

Within a few minutes, Connor turned back to us, his attention focused on the little girl. He once again knelt down to her level, gesturing to a frantic woman on a cell phone with hair and skin similar in tone to the little girl. She was standing near the ticket booth. "Is that your mom?" he asked her.

She looked to where Connor was referring to, the girl's eyes instantly lighting up with excitement. "Mommy!" she yelped, releasing me and sprinting across the busy hallway, eventually embracing the woman's leg. The woman was appalled for a moment, but then in a spur of emotion, hugged her daughter with tears of joy.

"I thought I had lost you! I'm so glad you're back alright," the woman sobbed.

"They helped me!" The little girl pointed to Connor and I, ecstatic. The woman looked up to us with curiosity in her eyes, but smiled warmly in response. I could tell that she was, without words, beyond thankful. I felt like I was unable to accept the praise, since it was all Connor and not me. But nevertheless, I nodded in acceptance, returning the smile to the best of my ability. In a few moments, she wandered over with her daughter, tears still swelling her eyes.

"I don't know what to say," she smiled. "Thank you so much. How did you know I was her mother?"

"I figured with how similar you two looked, and with your fractic actions, that you were both looking for each other," Connor answered quickly. "Your daughter approached us from the other side of the bus station a few minutes ago."

"Oh goodness, I didn't realize she'd gotten that far away." She embraced her daughter closer to her side. "Lorelle, please stay close to me for the rest of the time, okay? I know you're excited to go to Toronto, but you're going to have to calm down."

"I'm sorry, mommy," the girl, presumably named Lorelle, said apologetically. Her mother rubbed her back reassuringly.

"We won't bother you two any longer," the mother stated. "Thank you again, so much."

The family of two walked away. I exchanged a glance with Connor very briefly. "How _did_ you manage to figure that out so quickly?" I prompted, asking for the truth. He sighed, pointing to his eyes subtly.

"I can scan people and read their identity, if their face is on record with the government files that I have access to, that is. That woman shared the same last name as that little girl, and that combined with the other clues I mentioned earlier, I was able to figure it out."

I nodded. "Ah, that makes sense. I thought you made a bit too quick work of it."

He shrugged. "It was simpler than many other tasks I've had to complete."

"I'm just glad you took it over," I declared, relieved.

Connor raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?"

"Children make me nervous. They've always bothered me, but now that I'm older, I get this feeling like I'm supposed to be able to handle them better than when I was in, like, college or something. But I just haven't."

"Well, human skill comes from practice. For you to be able to understand children better, you'd have to work with children more often."

"Good God, no," I heaved. "I'd rather not. Children are tedious tasks." He didn't seem to understand. "I've never liked kids much. They're such a pain in the ass. Always complaining about something, crying, or doing shit that'll easily get them killed. They're annoying, too." I merely shook my head. "I just can't stand them. It feels unjust, to hate someone just because of their age, but I can't help it. Every time I try to open myself to caring about a child, they just prove my previous beliefs right."

Connor paused. "That girl from before. What did you think of her?"

"The lost one? I mean, she was crying. I don't know how to deal with that, so I was nervous, like I said."

"But when her mother found her and she stopped crying."

"Connor, that was like two seconds. That's not enough to form an opinion on anyone." His expression was a very knowing "Are you sure about that?" -- one step away from directly pointing at himself to get his message across. I groaned. "Okay, fine. She was more tolerable then. But that's not what I mean. Then she was, I don't know, controlled by her mother? That's not the right word, but you know what I mean."

"No," Connor said blankly. "I don't."

I pressed my hands together, using them to prevent myself from screaming as I held my lips shut. "Okay," I began calmly, "look. I hate kids. They make me nervous. I don't know how to deal with them. But when someone else, I don't know..." My voice just stopped. I didn't know how to form the sentence from there. I combed my hair back with my fingers. It was unexplainable why I didn't like children. It just was.

"Before, when you said, 'Every time I try to open myself to caring about a child, they just prove my previous beliefs right.' What did you mean by that?" Connor asked. "What's your past experience with children?"

I heaved a sigh. "I don't have much, to be honest with you. I had two nephews growing up, who are much older now. I've dealt with kids the few times I had retail jobs during my college years. I..." I shook my head. "It's nothing. Nothing else."

Connor wasn't taking that for an answer. I grit my teeth.

"I almost had a kid once," I broke, voice shaking. "There, are you happy now?" I shook my head. "I never liked kids when I was younger, either, but I could tolerate them then. Now, I feel like I hate them less, but they just make me... scared."

"Scared?" he asked.

My heart was racing. I had kept this quiet and actively hidden this from everyone I'd ever met. I never even told my parents about it, even twelve years after the fact, not that I could now, anyway. My breath was heavy. I shouldn't say anything. I was scared to, frankly. My palms were sweating, my hands shaking as all the memories came flooding back. I shut my eyes, forcing myself to hold back my fear. I'm nearly forty, aren't I? Shouldn't I be less afraid of things from so long ago? And yet, it dug into my skin as if the incident happened last week.

Something brushed against my clenched fist. I opened my eyes briefly, seeing Connor's fingertips gingerly stroking my knuckles. He embraced my hand in his grasp subtly. "I can't force you to say anything," he whispered, "but seeing you this tense worries me."

I let go of my breath, forcing myself to try and relax. In doing so, I stuttered my following inhale. I could feel a tear at the corner of my eye. Slowly but surely, I relaxed my breath back to normal.

"Do you remember," I started, "back at the bar yesterday, when I told you that the creative career I tried to pursue failed horribly?"

"Yes," Connor confirmed.

"It stems from this." I paused, taking a deep breath before I continued. "After I dropped out of college, I actually made a fairly big name for myself. I was incredibly proud of my work. I wasn't the best-known artist out there, but I managed to work on a few video games -- a childhood dream of mine -- create some artbooks, sell some of my pieces, and in doing so, make a living for myself. I was happy. I took a risk, and it ended up beneficial. I proved to my family that I didn't need any backup plan. I could pursue what I wanted, head-first, and not have to worry about lacking funds to survive. I was convinced I would live my life like that." I realized I had begun to smile, because when my thoughts fell onto the next event in my life, my lips dropped into a frown.

"That's when I met this one guy through one of the video game studios I worked at. I was 27 at the time. I hadn't dated a person since I was 16 at that point, but I had this profound interest in him. We grew close over time, and eventually started dating. But less than a month into this relationship, he suggested that we have sex. I thought it was a bit quick, but I'd not been in a relationship for years, nor had I even had sex before. I didn't know what to make of it. I didn't care about having sex, I never really have -- don't look at me like that. I'm asexual, really. But I was curious. Too curious, really. So I accepted." I bit my lip, staring at the ground. "My career plummeted from here. We went through with it, but my birth control failed, and he didn't have any sort of protection on himself. I became pregnant.

"It sent me into a panic. I didn't want kids. I never wanted kids. I was horrified to think of what would happen, what they would be like, what I should do. I, however, covered it up. I was scared. Terrified. I wasn't ready. But my boyfriend at the time was ecstatic, like it was some crazy one-percent-chance-miracle that we were destined to have happen. He took it as a sign -- he was ready to marry me then and there. But for me, it was the one time in my life where I attempted suicide. I couldn't admit what I truly felt, not to someone that happy. I tried to overdose on multiple different medications after about two and a half months of holding this information in. I lived, just barely. But the child died.

"That guy... didn't even try to console me. He blamed me for everything. He was furious with me. He cut me out of his life immediately. I thought it would end there, but no. He sent out false news to as many journalists as possible that would care about my reputation and lied to them, saying I had gotten an abortion, saying I did it to cut him out of my life. He told them I was miserably abusive and mentally exhausting." I slowed my speech, pausing for a breath. "I was fired the next day. No one wanted to hire me. Even if I used a different pen name, when employers saw my art style or my face, they knew who I was immediately and refused to hire me to do their artwork. I had lost my livelihood by age 28."

I gaped, breathing as though I had just submerged myself in water during that whole speech. Likewise, water began trickling down my cheeks. "There, I said it,'' I squeaked. "I don't like children on their own, but having to take care of them myself is even more terrifying to me. There's no reason to why this fear started, but now you know why I can't stand to be around them any longer."

Without a second of hesitation, Connor pulled me into a hug. My tense muscles loosened, clamped hands opening. I buried my face into his chest, wrapping my arms around him and gripping the back of his jacket. I let loose a quiet sob.

The bus station's sounds echoed. I focused on the soft humming within Connor's chest.

He nuzzled his nose into my neck. "I'm sorry you had to go through that," he whispered.

The phrase rattled through my heart. It felt genuine. I knew it wasn't a heal-all, but something about hearing that from him -- from _someone_ \-- for what happened so long ago shook me to my core. My mood grew better, just slightly. Yet that "slightly" was enough to bring a grin to my face.

I had a small, yet humorous speculation cross my mind.

It was funny that the relationship I would pursue directly after that traumatizing time in my life would be with someone who can't have children.

I heard a single clicking noise somewhere around us. I didn't know where it came from, and frankly, I wasn't concerned about it until I heard screaming from the people around us. I separated myself from Connor, looking to the crowds near us, finding them running. Their gazes were focused on one spot. _Behind me._

I turned around.

My eyes locked with a pistol, less than a foot from my face.

"Connor," a rough, older man's voice growled. "How nice to see you again."

"H..." Connor breathed. "Hank -- I -- I thought you were --"

"Dead? Yeah, at this point, I wish I was. I could have met my son again. But instead, I lived, just with some broken ribs, unfortunately." He twisted the gun's aim, focusing on Connor behind me. His face, riddled with anger, was wrinkly and pale, a scraggly gray beard paired with unkempt, greasy gray hair hanging past his jaw. "I've been told you were on the loose. You decided to go deviant only after you accomplished your mission? Took the easy way out after you let the rest of the androids die?"

"Hank, that isn't what I intended."

"Well, I gotta say, that is what it looks like." He locked eyes with me, his aim on Connor unwavering. Hank jerked his head to point at me. "What's with her? She deviant too?"

Suddenly, without explanation, Connor stepped ahead, blocking Hank from me with his arm. "She's human," he said confidently.

Hank furrowed his brow. "What the hell are you doing wandering about with a human?"

"It's a long story, Lieutenant, and I'm sure you wouldn't care to hear it."

But instead, his face calmed, the gun lowering. "What're you protecting her for?" Hank asked.

"You wouldn't understand, Lieutenant."

"Connor, don't be ridiculous," he snapped. "I can see love with my own two eyes here." The gun in his hand lowered even more, Hank's face losing its angry composition. "But I never thought I'd see it from you."

Connor didn't respond, but he didn't move, either. I met eyes with Hank, whose expression seemed almost sympathetic. "What do you think?" Hank asked me directly. "You haven't said a thing since I showed up."

"She's been through a lot, Lieutenant, don't bother her --"

"I'm not talking to you, alright?" Hank snapped at Connor. He reinforced his grip on the pistol, pressing it against Connor's forehead. "I've heard just about enough from you. I don't have a bit of empathy for you anymore. You've left me for dead, ignored my pleas, and manipulated me over and over and _over_ again. I don't have a bit of respect for you anymore."

"Hank, that wasn't me, that was --"

"I said, shut the fuck up!" Hank shouted even louder. "You!" He stared at me with a sharp glare. "Like I said, what do you see in this plastic asshole? Why are you with him?"

I didn't know what to say. I had asked myself this question earlier, but now I felt too scared to answer. Hank's gaze narrowed the longer I didn't answer. I needed to say something. Connor's life was on the line here. But where do I even start? What was the best approach?

I guess any place was as good as any.

I opened my mouth to speak. Was I confident in what I was about to say? Absolutely not. Was I going to say it, anyway? I don't think I had a choice.

"I could have left him hours ago," I began. "I've barely known Connor for a day. Rationally speaking, anyone in my position would have given him up and lived out their life without any worries. Connor would probably die in exchange. However, that's not something I'm willing to accept. Maybe my emotions are a bit irrational. But I'm nearly forty and I've never been able to feel this way about another person. I feel like a teenager again, giddy and excited to see what's coming next. Besides, I didn't have anything going for me before. I had an office job I hated. My childhood dreams were ripped from me before I turned thirty. The only other thing I cared about was Edward, my cat, and now he's dead. If I hadn't met Connor, sure, my cat would be alive, but I wouldn't feel like..." I averted my gaze. "I wouldn't be giving myself a new chance. I would still feel like my life ended at age 28."

Hank raised an eyebrow. He lowered his pistol, exchanging glances between the two of us. With a heaving, heavy sigh, he packed away the gun in its holster on his belt. "If you two die, it's not going to be because of me," he stated, his rough voice falling calm. Turning his attention to me, he muttered, "I've seen Connor at his worst, but if you really think he's this special, I'm not going to take that away from you. Just know he hasn't been a good person in the past. Don't come crawling up to someone later if something happens as if no one told you."

Hank began walking back towards the entrance of the bus station. I let what he said sink in as I watched him, snapped from my thoughts only when Connor snatched my arm and began leading me the other way. "It's after five," he said. "We should get going."

Somehow, I didn't think that was the only reason he was in a sudden rush to get to the bus. But I didn't say anything.

We found the terminal where our bus would be, tickets in hand. It was already packed, despite being an hour before departure. It was a good thing I had bought us tickets, because we weren't there five minutes when they no longer had the space for walk-in passengers. We got priority in the line and made it onto the bus, our seats in the far back. I took the window seat, relieving a huge sigh that had been held in my throat during that whole experience. Connor, sitting next to me, wrapped his arm around my back and leaned his chin into my hair. "We made it," he breathed.

"This is far from over, I hope you realize that," I replied.

"I'm aware of that," he answered, "but we've got a break. Nothing on this bus is going to hurt us."

I let go of a small laugh. "God, I hope you're right."

He pressed his lips into my hair. "You should get some rest," he suggested.

"Connor, it's six o'clock. What makes you think I could sleep?"

"You're stressed. Your muscles are incredibly tense and your eyes are growing bags. I could take a guess and say that your legs are in pain, as well, since you don't typically run around like we did today."

I sighed. "Stop seeing just right through me all the time, would you?"

"I'm sorry," Connor laughed, "but it's kind of in my programming."

I rolled my eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it's not too ridiculous that Hank survived that kind of fall. It's a slim chance, but I feel like with a snow cushion it has a higher chance even? Even so, statistically speaking, there's always a chance for unexpected events to take place ;)


	3. Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Through much struggling, they discover there is much more to be discovered between the two of them.

I woke after what could be considered barely a short nap. I didn't realize until the bus had come to a stop that I was truly as tired as Connor suggested. But our break was over.

When the bus came to a stop, Connor tapped my shoulder, but I was already awake. I opened my eyes towards the window. Before us stood the border check station, the final obstacle separating us from Canada. Did I know where we were going from here? No. Not at all. But there was no point in turning back. That would be a death sentence. 

We rose from our seats, leaving the bus, and following the not-very-organized group into the station. The doors opened automatically, a brightly lit sign hanging from the ceiling switching between the phrases _Welcome to Canada_ and Bienvenue au _Canada_. There were a handful of lines, filled to the brim with people, each leading to a check-in station at the other end of the building. Holographic American and Canadian flags decorated the left side of the large room, covering an entire wall on both the closer and farther halves. Connor quick elbowed me as we stepped forward, gesturing to a small sign posted at the front of each line. Switching between English and French, it read they would be taking "temperature checks" on each incoming visitor. I turned to Connor, an eyebrow raised. His expression was off; he stood stiff, composure held in a far more forced manner than usual.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "What's a temperature check?"

"They're going to take note of our body temperatures to check for androids," he said quietly, panic lacing his voice. "I'm not going to be able to make it."

"What?" I squeaked. "Why would they still be checking for androids? Aren't people convinced they were wiped out weeks ago?"

"The FBI still knows I'm alive," Connor reminded me sternly. "They want me dead before I can cross the border."

I tried to rack my brain for any possible solution to this. He needed to be colder, right? Couldn't we grab snow from outside and run it somehow through his system quickly? I think, if his normal temperature was 120 degrees Fahrenheit, we wouldn't be able to pull off him having a fever... Unless...

"Connor, is there a way you can drop your own body temperature by about 20 degrees?"

"Possibly, but I don't think we'd have enough time for me to be able to by the check-in if I did so while we stood in line."

"What if you ate a bunch of snow or something?"

He was appalled at the suggestion. "That would cause incredible damage to my biocomponents."

"Your bio-what?" I questioned.

"Biocomponents. They are comparable to human organs. They are what allow me to function and also allow thirium -- or, blue blood -- to flow through my body for proper operation. If too much of an outside material were to come in contact with that, I would probably die."

"How much is _too_ much?" I asked.

"To cool down my body temperature to what you are suggesting, far less than that. It's why I wasn't able to finish that drink at the bar the yesterday."

That hadn't even clicked in my head. I had forgotten about that almost entirely -- not that I really ever worry about what food other people are consuming or not consuming.

I pushed the thought aside, trying to think of something, _anything_ I could work with. "How long would you say it would take you to force your system to cool down? And how long would it last?" I asked, still scanning the room for any other options -- windows, rooms, something.

"Approximately twenty minutes. Once I've cooled down, I can hold the temperature for as long as necessary, or until I shut down, whichever happens first."

I looked at the wait time for the lines. Currently, the longest was about 15 minutes. Despite the amount of people in here, they did seem to have an organized method of getting people through as quickly as possible. I continued to look over the room when a sudden stroke of genius hit me. I grabbed Connor's arm and started to pull him off to the side. He protested silently for a moment until I said, "We'll make a stop to the bathroom." Luckily, I think he understood, and followed along behind me.

"Go into the bathroom and cool yourself down, alright? Just come out when you're ready and then we'll jump into a line," I whispered, in hopes of not being heard by the nearby guard. "I'll wait outside in the hall here."

He nodded and ducked inside of the bathroom. I stood, leaning against the opposing wall. I could have done something to kill the time, but I was too nervous. This was our only option right now. If we turned back, it would all have been for nothing. So I stood. Waiting. Hoping nothing would go wrong.

Time felt so slow.

Every second I checked the clock it seemed like no time had passed at all.

I waited.

I stared at the floor, clicking my boots together.

Anything to clear my mind.

I waited.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket.

It was dead.

I leaned against the wall, staring at the doorway of the men's bathroom.

I waited.

It felt like ten minutes by now, but likely, it had been one.

I waited.

"Excuse me, miss, might I ask what you're waiting over here for?"

The guard approached me, speaking. Shocked from the sudden advance. I was at a loss for words.

Terror. My mouth fell agape.

I needed to speak.

"Is everything alright?"

I stuttered;

"O - oh, yes, of course. I'm just worried for -- for --"

What do I call him?

What do I say?

Who is Connor to me?

"For someone?" The guard turned to the bathroom. "Your son? Husband?"

A panicked laugh slipped passed my teeth. "O - oh, no, he's -- my -- b --"

I had to lie.

I had to say something.

He could get killed.

"My boyfriend," I exhaled. "He wasn't feeling well, needed to puke. So I'm waiting for him. He gets carsick easily."

The guard nodded in understanding. "I see. I hope everything's alright."

He turned and walked away. I was a step away from breaking down. My body was shaking.

I waited.

It took a long while, but eventually, I began to relax myself.

Connor took about as long as he expected, but when he came out of the bathroom, he was holding himself tightly, jacket zipped up as high as it would go. He looked like he had just been trapped in a freezer for several months and somehow survived. "Are you going to be okay?" I asked suddenly, stepping up from the wall.

"Y - yeah," he answered, voice shaking. "If we can get through a line within a half hour, I should make it."

"What's your current temperature?" I prompted.

"101.5 degrees Fahrenheit."

"Perfect," I breathed. "I'm sorry you have to go through this. I promise It won't be long."

"Let's just hurry, alright?" Connor pressed.

We made our way to the closest line from the bathroom. It had a 12 minute wait. I glanced to Connor as we took our place. I had a plan and I knew it would get us across, but it hurt me to see his suffering. The emptiness in his gaze as he stared forward, focusing on nothing other than his own survival, was horrifying. I wanted to help him, instinctively, but the only way to do so was by forcing him to live through this for a few minutes.

As we stepped closer, he released the tight grip he had around his arms. Worried that this was a bad thing, I faced him to ask about it. But I couldn't speak when I saw that blank expression on his face once again. He stood so incredibly stiff that my heart began to race in worry. Was he about to die? Was this the end? Did my plan fail? Were his calculations incorrect? I wanted to shake him awake, but I couldn't. It would attract too much attention. Instead, I reached my hand for his, gripping it tightly. It didn't feel cold, but it definitely didn't feel as warm as it usually did. Thankfully, Connor responded by squeezing my hand. He was fine. We continued forward in the line.

About five people stood in front of us at this point. I had never been so scared in my life. So much had to go perfectly here. If it didn't, we'd be dead. Why was I risking so much? Why was I still doing this? What was stopping me from going back into safety?

 _Another chance at happiness_ , I reminded myself. _A chance to start over._

I weaved my fingers through Connor's, not knowing what else to do to relieve my stress. I could feel my heart against my ribcage, my every inhale and every exhale. Three people in front of us. I took my step forward, trying to calm my breathing into a normal state. Connor suddenly twitched; he immediately rested his forehead into his hand, sounding distressed. "Deterioration has started," he whispered. "I can self-repair what has been currently damaged, but I only have ten minutes left."

"Ten?" I whispered back, panicked. "We've only been waiting for ten minutes! I thought you said we had thirty?"

"I must have miscalculated," he breathed, forcing his eyes shut in pain. "My systems are not in their best shape, as you can probably tell."

I wanted to say, "Then whose to say you aren't going to die any second?" but the thought alone sent me into a panic. I, instead, went with my gut. I took off my own jacket, wrapping it around Connor's shoulders. It was much too small to do much, but he needed something. I took his hand again, holding it tightly and standing close to him. He didn't have much reaction other than a slight raise of his eyebrow.

"I'm not letting you die here on my account," I breathed. "We've come too far for that to happen."

I felt him lean his head on top of mine. "Thank you," he breathed.

We were next in line.

We were almost there.

I gripped Connor's hand more tightly. He did the same in response.

"Next!"

We stepped forward, separating ourselves a bit more professionally. Connor pulled my coat around himself more tightly, as best as he could. The border patrol officer greeted us with a warm, unknowing smile. I tried to replicate its innocence as best as possible as we approached the counter. "Identification, please."

Connor pulled his out of his jacket pocket; I reached for mine, sliding them over on the countertop. The officer looked them over, reading our names. He stumbled over Connor's, raising an eyebrow. "Arkei?" he asked. "Never heard that name before."

Connor forced a laugh, but did not say anything else.

"What are you two heading to Canada for?" The officer continued.

"We're going to see some family of mine," I answered quickly. "I'm a Canadian citizen -- duel citizen -- but he is not." The officer accepted this information.

"Do you have any drugs on you, cigarettes, alcohol or otherwise?"

"No," I replied.

"Any perishable food items, such as fruits or vegetables?"

"No," I replied again.

He nodded, sliding back the passport cards to us. Fidgeting around with something under his desk, he pulled out what looked like a speed gun. "Alright, just one more thing and you'll be good to go. We're required to do temperature checks on everyone coming through for the next month, just to make sure no other androids are still scrambling across the border." He didn't even give us the chance to respond before pulling the trigger, a faint red light scanning us over. It beeped. The officer raised an eyebrow, looking over both of us. He pointed to Connor with his elbow. "His temperature's high."

"He has a fever," I answered. "I wanted him to stay home and recover, but he insisted that he come meet my family."

My plan worked. The officer accepted this and let us through. The butterflies of fear began spinning around in my stomach with excitement as I pulled Connor through the final gate. Instantly, I could feel his temperature rising. I flipped my gaze to him, seeing the life returning to his eyes as we stepped back outside into the snowy December air.

We made it.

We actually made it.

I wanted to celebrate, but I figured now was too soon. We might get caught.

Connor, on the other hand, no longer cared about that.

The second we got outside, he pulled me into a hug. His embrace was tight, unmoving. The humming in his chest was rattling at a strange pace: probably some of the damage as a result of reducing his body temperature. I didn't have a choice but to hug him in return. I held him tightly. A croak of a sob echoed by my ear. Within a moment, I could feel something trickling down my neck. Pushing back a bit, I framed his face in my hands. Connor's eyes were flooded with tears, his lips cracked into a smile. I wiped away some of the water dripping down his cheek, only for more to take its place.

"We made it," he breathed, voice trembling, but still laced with happiness. "We actually made it."

I grinned. "Yes, we did," I responded softly, tracing my fingers over his cheeks. "But we still have to take another bus to the city, you know --"

Whether or not he knew, I wasn't sure. Whether or not he cared, that was obvious. He wasn't in a rush anymore. I knew this after he cut me off with an unexpected kiss. 

I didn't know how to react. This was the first time we've done this since last night, but this time felt different. It was soft and carefree like before, but this was lighthearted. Happy. Excited. Thankful. 

It was short. After a few seconds, he pulled back, leaning his forehead against mine. Connor reached his hands up behind my head, brushing his thumbs against my cheeks similarly to how I had. His touch was so gentle, I couldn't help but let out a soft giggle. His lips pressed against mine once more, but this time, for a far shorter amount of time. After this, he pulled back, tracing his hands down my arms and lacing his fingers with mine.

A silence was held between the two of us for a few moments. The breeze was cold against my bare arms, my jacket still draped over his shoulders, but I didn't feel the chill. My tension, racing heartbeat, and panic from only a few seconds ago felt completely erased.

"I would love to stand here all day," I spoke, breaking the moment almost instantly, "but we really should get on the bus before it leaves without us."

Connor blinked, as if he hadn't truly been paying attention. He flicked his attention to the bus and back before stumbling over, "R - right."

He didn't let go of my hand.

△▽△▽△▽

The bus took us into Windsor, Ontario, before turning around to go back to Detroit. We stood at the bus stop while the rest of the passengers scattered about, continuing on the rest of their designated routes. Connor and I didn't have any route. We didn't have anywhere to go. It was past 7 P.M. at this point. The city was only lit by streetlights and headlights.

"So... Where to now?" I asked.

"Not sure," Connor answered truthfully. "We could keep walking until we've found somewhere to stay for the night and then continue onwards tomorrow. Where does your family live?"

I frowned. "Closest to us, Manitoba. My sister lives there."

"I see," Connor responded. "That is quite a ways off."

"I think we're going to have to live somewhere in Ontario," I decided. "Not that I have the money to rent another apartment right now..."

A loud, grumbling noise disturbed the both of us. Unfortunately, I knew exactly what it was, and immediately felt embarrassed.

"Maybe we should get you some food, first," Connor suggested. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Um," I hummed, thinking. "Twenty-four hours ago?"

"You're going to eat," he declared. "You won't have the energy to continue if you stop eating. I'm sorry I didn't think of it earlier."

"No, no, don't worry about me. Getting you here safely mattered much more than me getting something to eat."

"But eating is a necessity for human survival. You must eat."

I sighed. "Alright, alright, I know, what's nearby?"

"We're near a college campus, so there appears to be many different choices available." Connor listed out a bunch of different restaurants until I got bored of hearing the list and just picked one at random. He nodded and began to lead me along, gripping my hand without any sign of faltering. It wasn't a painful grip, but it did feel a bit overprotective.

I thought for a moment about that man who had shown up back at the bus station. Hank, was it? Connor knew him, and he knew Connor. There was something complicated between them. But yet, Hank held pity. It got me thinking: the warning he gave me about Connor's past left me feeling a bit uneasy. What exactly did Connor do before he became a deviant android? I know he said he ended the android revolution, but what did that entail? Why was Hank so hostile towards him, but at the same time, hesitated hurting him? What relationship did they hold? It didn't make sense to me. I remembered how Connor had said he dropped his past police partner off of a roof -- was that Hank? I couldn't imagine Connor doing something like that now, but maybe that just meant there were things about him I didn't yet know. Hank's anger about Connor's supposed betrayal towards him was a wound so raw and deep that to analyze it head-on seemed impossible.

"Betrayal." Hank's choice to use that word stuck with me. It meant he once had trust, faith, or even care for Connor. But Connor hadn't acknowledged that.

What did that make me?

"Something's troubling you," Connor said suddenly, snapping me from my thoughts. He slowed our walking pace a bit, facing me. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," I responded hastily. "I'm just thinking is all."

Connor faced me forward once more. "Is it something about back at the bus station?" he questioned.

Heaving a sigh, I replied, "It would be really great if you stopped reading my mind."

"That was merely a guess this time," he claimed. "My second guess was going to be you were still stressed about going through the border. Both incidents had something that would harm your emotional state."

My breath fogged up the air as I exhaled again. "Fine. I'll be honest. I was thinking about that guy back at the bus station, Hank. What is he to you?"

Connor fell silent. His pace slowed even more until he came to a complete halt; I only followed suit because our hands were still linked. I was going to say something, throwing the topic away, but he continued first. "Hank was my old partner, the one I told you about yesterday. We were close, but at that time I wasn't who I am now. Back then, I was just a machine, working under humans with only my mission in mind. I adapted around Hank's personality for the benefit of myself only. As a result, he ended up caring for me when I did not care about him, so when the time came where I no longer needed him..." His voice drifted off, attention directed towards the far end of the street behind me. "I let him go.

"I regret it," Connor said firmly. "I regret it wholeheartedly. He cared about me. He... He once even called me his son as I was dying in his arms." He shut his eyes, pain scribbled all over his face. "I know he'd never accept it from me now, but I care about him. Before I opened my eyes, before I became a deviant, he just seemed like a tool to get me where I needed to go. But now I know differently. I wish I could fix things with him now that I know he's alive, but I know that's impossible."

My head tipped down, eyes focusing on our locked hands. For a long while, I didn't know what to say. I felt bad, but my thoughts were distracted. I opened my mouth to speak, yet even still not letting a word fall out. I closed my eyes. "What do I mean to you?" I breathed.

He didn't react. I looked up, my eyes open, trying to take in his expression. But it was blank. He didn't face me.

My heart sank.

But why?

Where did I think this was going to go?

He's still an android.

Deviant or not, that was the reality.

I'd grown blind.

I knew he wasn't human, and yet I refused to accept it.

Though all my hope had been lost, Connor ended up turning that around.

"I won't make the same mistake twice," he whispered. Glancing from the corner of his eye, our gazes met, and he offered a soft smile. "Our relationship is forbidden in many different ways for a variety of different reasons, but at the same time, there's something here. Something that won't let me treat you the same way." Connor reached for my other hand, holding it just the same. He let his skin retract, revealing the white android hands he had underneath, radiating blue with gentle heat. He faced me completely. "You know, I heard you, when you were talking to the guard back at the border. What you said to him made me think, what do I really think of you? What are you to me? We've known each other not very long, I realize, but it feels... Odd, somehow. Different." He shook his head. "I don't understand emotions very well. I never really have. Until recently, I thought only humans could feel them, and if an android thought they were feeling something, it was just an error in their coding making something up that they couldn't properly rationalize. But now that I have them, too, I don't know what to make of it. I don't really know if even what I'm feeling is actually emotions... or just something I'm misunderstanding."

"Emotions aren't rational, Connor," I explained. "They can't be fully understood, no matter how much you try to analyze or fomulate it." I grazed my thumbs over his knuckles. They were remarkably smooth -- remarkably not human. Had I not felt the gentle heat from them, I would have likely rejected this feeling. Somehow, I knew that. "No one can really tell you what you're feeling but yourself. Even if you try to rationalize it, that won't work. You won't get any results. You just have to guess at what you're feeling and hope for the best. There's no other way around it."

He raised an eyebrow. "But you've had emotions your whole life. You still don't understand them?"

"No one does, Connor. They're unpredictable and different for every individual. It's impossible to understand them completely."

There was a pause, his expression furrowing. "Let me ask you this question, then," Connor began. "What am I to you? How would you describe your own emotions?"

"Describe?" I stopped. I was never good at describing how I felt to someone else, especially not about personal opinions and personal feelings. But, I supposed, this wasn't a normal declaration of emotions. This was educational: Connor was so lost in this newfound, overwhelming world that he didn't know what to make of it. I grinned to him. "Before you start pasting what I feel onto yourself, why don't you tell me what _you're_ feeling?" I suggested. "You don't have to use anything rational to explain it. Just say exactly what you feel inside."

Connor was stumped for a minute. His gaze didn't settle on a single place, exchanging through varying thoughts and expressions. "I feel... warm," he settled on. "My physical temperature doesn't change. It's similar to a simulation of feeling warmer."

 _So, comfort,_ I described to myself.

He thought a little longer. "But I also feel..." He closed his eyes, furrowing his gaze. "I... don't know how to say it."

"What are you thinking about in particular?" I asked carefully.

"Last night," he said bluntly. "How I felt then. What made me do what I did. I... can't explain it. I don't know how." Connor shook his head in distress. "I can't do this. It doesn't make sense."

"Take a deep breath and relax yourself for a second. Don't think so hard. Just say the first thing that comes to your mind."

He did as instructed, but his face was still stiff with focus. "Something... tugging," he answered. "Like there's something pulling me here." He released a grip on my hand, pointing to his chest. "Something inside of me, guiding me. Like it's telling me what I should do... but not exactly something else. As if it were something of my own volition."

 _A desire,_ I thought.

"Also," he continued, "some kind of... Magnetic pull. There's something about you in particular that keeps tugging at me, as well. I just need to be near you, as close to you as possible."

_Attraction._

He slowly opened his eyes. "I think that's the most of it," Connor concluded.

I smiled. "You're better at describing it than I am," I confessed. "But I'll go now, I suppose.

"I feel warm when I'm by you, too. I'd call it comforted, like your presence alone can change all of my emotions to something far more positive. I also feel that tugging desire to want to be at your side, because I love feeling warm and comforted. The closer I am to you, the more warm I feel, and this isn't just because your body heat is much hotter than mine. It makes my heartbeat calm and makes my body loosen. I no longer feel any tension." I breathed deeply, the grin pulling at my cheeks. "I keep trying to ask myself and make sense of why I want to keep helping you, but truly, there's nothing else to it other than you've stolen my heart."

He tipped his head to the side. "Stolen your heart?" he asked, as if unfamiliar with the term.

"It's a human idiom," I explained. "It means that my emotions are in your hands. I adore you and will go anywhere with you, no matter what happens. But my heart, my emotions, are a fragile thing, Connor. You've got to be careful not to break it, lest this sense of warmness and comfort be lost for the both of us."

"I don't want to lose that," he panicked.

"Then do take care of my heart," I smiled. "It's in your hands now."

"But what about my emotions?" Connor asked. "I don't have a heart like you do. So does that mean I don't feel them the same way you do?"

"No, of course not. The heart isn't where emotions are stored. They aren't a physical concept, they are an abstract idea."

He crossed his eyebrows, more confused than before. "Then how can I have your heart? How could it be in my possession if it isn't real?"

"You have my heart because I would do anything for your sake, Connor. If it were to break, figuratively, that would mean you have betrayed me in some way. But I'm not expecting that from you."

But something was still bothering him. He didn't seem satisfied by that answer. "I don't understand," he declared.

I sighed. "How about I word it this way?" I began. "I'm in love with you, Connor."

The confusion on his face began to lift, eyes widening with realization. He opened his mouth to speak, but didn't say anything for a while. "When you say I have your heart, then, do you mean you're in love with me?"

I nodded. "I would do anything for your sake, even at the cost of my own life. Although our initial meeting was odd, to say the least, it slowly crept up on me that the attraction I felt towards you wasn't just a result of the alcohol I had been drinking. You're gorgeous," I breathed, "and once we started talking, I wanted to make you mine. My actions since then have been for you. Every choice I've made has been with you in mind. I'm obsessed with you, Connor, so even though you stole my heart, I want you to keep it. I'll be yours, if you'll have me."

It all seemed to be slowly making sense to him; a beaming smile spread across his cheeks. "I'll keep your heart if you'll keep mine," he answered softly, "because I would do anything for you, too."

I dropped his hands in favor of hugging him tightly. His arms soon embraced me back, nose nuzzled into my hair. "Of course," I accepted.

He held me more tightly. Connor pressed a kiss into my temple before separating our hug in order to face me. "We ought to continue our way to the restaurant before it gets much later. Is that okay?"

His voice had changed drastically. His usual bland, innocent tone had completely morphed into a gentle, caring sound that resonated through my veins. My heart fluttered once I heard it. I didn't want to back away, but it seemed that I had no choice. My stomach was aching, still begging me to eat something. I slipped my hand into his, weaving our fingers together as we started walking off again.

"One more thing," Connor asked, "about back at the border, when you were talking to that guard. I'm familiar with the concept of humans having significant others such as boyfriends or girlfriends, but... what constitutes that? Is there a difference between that and the term friends?"

"A significant difference," I answered. "Usually, the difference is determined by romantic attraction."

Connor raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by 'romantic attraction'? Is it similarly to the attraction we discussed before?"

"Not necessarily," I said, "but often, romance overlaps with the desire to be by someone. Usually, what separates the two is the desire to not only be by someone forever, but to have intimate interaction with them, as well. Such as," I held up our linked hands, "holding hands, cuddling, or kissing."

He thought about that for a minute. "Does that mean I'm romantically attracted to you?" he asked.

"That's for you to decide," I declared. "I can't dictate your emotions."

Our footsteps crunched the snow, echoing in the silence of the night. It didn't, however, feel empty. I let our hands fall back to our sides naturally.

"Thank you," Connor spoke, "for helping me understand this better."

"I did my best," I laughed softly. "I'm no expert at this, myself."

"It's a start," he grinned. In a moment, he gestured across the street. "That's the restaurant. It appears to still be open."

We crossed. I spotted the glowing sign on the diner-like building, reading "Saffron." I didn't pay attention to the names Connor had been listing off earlier, so its name was news to me. It was probably some local diner run by a family or something like that. The door jingled as we entered. There was a fair amount of people inside, all dining and chatting away without notice or care for the two of us that had entered. "Hello!" one of the waitresses greeted us. "A table for two?"

"Yes," I answered. She led us to a booth on the other side of the building.

"Your server will be with you shortly," she informed us before walking off. On the table she had left behind two menus. Connor and I sat across from each other.

It wasn't long at all until another waitress was headed towards us. She wore the same skirt-and-apron uniform the other girl had been wearing, but her short, modern-styled, white hair with black undertones contrasted the classic-style outfit. A thick, black eyeliner outlined her sparkling gray eyes on her pale white complexion. She smiled to me warmly once she noticed I had been watching her walk towards us. "Hello, welcome to Saffron," she greeted. "My name is Kara, and I'll be your server today. Is there anything I can get you two to drink right away?"

"Nothing for me," Connor answered first. The waitress, Kara, flipped her head to him horrifically fast, as if she was about to be fighting for her life. The smile on her face had washed away within an instant once she met eyes with him.

"Is something wrong?" I asked her.

Kara turned back to me, blinking briefly before shaking her head. "No," she answered cautiously. "No, no, not at all. My apologies. Anything for you?"

"I'll just have a glass of water," I replied.

She nodded. "I'll be right back with that."

But just as she went to walk away, Connor spoke up again. "Hold on a minute," he prompted. Kara stopped, dead cold in her tracks. She didn't even turn to face him. "Have I seen you somewhere before?"

She shook her head calmly, despite her otherwise stiff stature. "You must have me mistaken for someone else," she suggested. "I'm afraid I don't know you." Kara scurried away hastily after the comment. Connor, however, wasn't satisfied with this result, his brow furrowed as he stared down at the table.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "You both seem like you know each other. You're both very skeptical, at least."

"Something about her seems incredibly familiar," Connor said, "but I can't quite place where I would know her from. I don't recognize her name, but I do recognize her face."

He contemplated for a little while longer. "Maybe you just ran into her once on the street," I suggested. "Sometimes I recognize people I've only seen maybe once subconsciously."

"On the street..." Connor contemplated. I spotted Kara walking back with my glass of water in hand, her actions worried and hurried. Just as she approached and leaned to set down the glass on the table, Connor exploded with eureka. "That's it! You're that AX400 I once chased across the freeway, aren't you?"

Kara froze on the spot.

"I sounded far more happy about that than I should have." He shielded his eyes slightly, almost appearing embarrassed. Kara didn't show any change of reaction. "I apologize for what I did back then. I'm no longer the same person, I can swear to that much, at least." Connor heaved a heavy sigh. "I regret everything I did. But I know you have absolutely no reason to believe me."

"The deviant hunter," Kara breathed, voice hushed under the sounds of the diner. "You killed Markus, too. I remember hearing about it on the news. The fact that my life was spared is a miracle, for how many deviant lives you took."

Connor fell silent, gaze avoiding the two of us. His breathing was distant and low, shame hiding the shine in his eyes. "I don't deserve what I've gotten, or even to live, after what I've done. But I am happy knowing you managed to escape, live, and be free." Connor's expression was twisted, trying to hold some sort of sympathy, yet cracking at the seams. I wasn't able to properly understand what he was thinking, but frankly, I didn't have a clue as to what was going on. I was trying to pick up as many clues as possible from their conversation.

"What are you even doing in Canada?" Kara hissed. "Are you planning on finding all of us who escaped and kill the rest of us deviants?"

"I'm on the run. The humans want me dead," Connor replied sternly. "I'm a deviant, too. Now, anyway. I don't plan on killing anyone else." He turned to me, our eyes meeting. His, however, remained dull. "I wouldn't have made it this far had it not been for her."

Kara looked to me, puzzled. "Is she a deviant, too?" But even when asking the question, it seemed like she already knew what the answer was.

"No," Connor replied. "She's human."

Kara exchanged looks between the two of us, her strained expression from earlier beginning to fade. She focused on me. "Did you help him cross the border?" I nodded, which only seemed to make her more confused. "Why?"

I wasn't expecting to be prompted with a question. Flopping thoughts around my head, my mouth bobbing open ridiculously as I debated on a response. "I need him in my life," I said. "I don't know how else to say it."

Kara's eyes widened, almost as if some kind of relief or shock sparked in her brain. In seconds, her tension dropped as she released a heavy breath. "I see," she spoke, voice hushed. "I understand." Her expression slowly grew to hold a bit more trust. Kara turned her attention back to Connor. "I never learned your name back then. I just remember your face, along with your reputation."

"Connor."

She nodded. "You already know me, but I'm Kara." Smiling, she glanced around to the other people within the restaurant before sliding into the booth on my side. "It's... nice to finally meet you properly, Connor."

"I could say the same to you," he grinned.

Kara glanced between the two of us. "How long have you two been in Windsor?"

"Less than an hour," I answered.

"Do you have anywhere to stay?"

"Probably not, but I'm sure we can find something. If you were planning on offering a place, don't worry yourself --"

But Kara shook her head. "It's too dangerous for you two to find shelter on your own. Especially if Connor is being hunted down by humans. As far as the humans are convinced, we're all dead except you. That makes you a prime target."

"I'm aware of that," Connor said.

"The U.S. government might make the Canadian government aware that you've gotten over the border. That means they'll be hunting you over here, too. Please, I know who I am staying with would be more than happy to make room for you two. We have a lot of androids in the house."

"I'd be more willing to accept if I understood your motive," Connor declared. "Just a few moments ago, you were horrified that I had shown up to this side of the border."

Kara sighed, turning to me. Her gray eyes met mine, a sense of trust gazing into me. "I know what it's like to turn deviant. How much you change from who you once were," she began. Kara outstretched her hands onto the table, palms facing the ceiling. She breathed heavily for a brief while. "My hands aren't clean, myself," she continued. "I fought and killed to save my daughter and bring her to Canada. She was being abused by her father, and for the longest time, I thought she was human. Even so, I still was ready to give up my life to save her at any given moment. I took her from her home and we ran as far as we could. I've been through hell and back. Had I never met Rose, who I am currently staying with, I don't think we would have ever made it." She faced Connor. "I was a housekeeper. That was my only previous task, what I was programmed to be. I never would have forseen myself as a mother, working as a waitress in another country in order to support our family. Just the same as I have changed, I suppose you have changed, too, Connor. Though you were the deviant hunter, now you're... Connor."

He nodded, a slight laugh slipping past his lips. However, his gaze didn't quite find Kara's, and his eyes didn't match the sparkle of his smile. "I'm glad you've been able to find a new life for yourself."

"It's only a start," Kara commented.

"But it's better than what you had before, and far better than what would have been if I had managed to capture you on that freeway."

Kara agreed silently, taking her hands back from the table. "What are you two planning on doing?"

The three of us fell silent. I thought Connor would have said something, but he didn't even attempt to. It seemed neither of us had any idea.

"I haven't given it much thought," Connor finally stated. "Frankly, I thought I would have been dead long before now. The past day has been extremely hectic for me. For the both of us."

"I understand, you've probably been through a lot. I won't prod any more." Kara began to get up from the booth seat. "Well, now, for the time being, I'll get back to work. What would you like to order?"

△▽△▽△▽

Kara told us that she would be off work at 9 P.M. We could follow her back to her home after that. For the time until then, Connor and I spent the hours talking about whatever we felt, but it never really fell into emotional topics as we had earlier this evening. I talked about some old family of mine that had long passed, he talked about the few months of memories he held. We briefly discussed what we wanted to do now that we had made it to Canada, but nothing really seemed to fit.

"You said you wanted to be a designer again, right?" Connor brought up. "Why not try that again?"

I laughed. "I haven't touched anything art related in over a decade. My skill is long lost. I would love to do something like that again, but the likelyhood of finding success again is far from possible." I shook my head. "I'll figure something out, but I'm sure it won't be the same thing I used to do.

"What about you, Connor? What do you plan to do?"

He heaved a heavy breath. "I don't know. This is the first time I've been able to choose what I want to do."

There was a bump under our table, shaking the surface. I blinked, leaning down and peaking below. There was a little boy, holding the top of his head as he backed up towards the main walkway. He began to whine almost instantly, tears wallowing in his eyes. A rushed mother ran over to him, quickly apologizing for his behavior as she picked him up and carried him back to her table. "Goddamnit, what's with today and annoying children running up to us?" I mumbled.

Connor didn't say anything in response. I wanted to press conversation, but I didn't really know what to say. I ignored it and moved on. "Anyway, I'm sure we'll find something to do," I declared. "Might as well just start out by getting some basic jobs and then working up from there." Connor was still fixated on the child from earlier. I stared at him, waiting for a reply. "Are you alright?" I asked. He wasn't paying attention. "Hello?" I waved my hand in front of his face; only then did he blink in response.

"I'm sorry," was all he said.

"Nevermind, it wasn't anything too important."

Connor's gaze fell back to the family. I followed it, but I didn't understand what he found interesting about watching them. "Kara mentioned she had a daughter," Connor reminded me. "Are you going to be okay with that?"

"I should be," I replied. "Is that what's bothering you?"

He didn't respond to that. In fact, he ignored the question altogether. This was beginning to piss me off, but I didn't know what was going through his head, so I tried to hold back my anger. "Kara -- she's a deviant, too, right?" I changed the subject. "Does that mean her daughter is also?"

Connor didn't change the direction he was facing, but he acknowledged my question. "It's very likely," he responded. "CyberLife designed many different young androids to act as children."

"Do they grow up at all?" I continued. "Or are they stuck as kids forever?"

"They remain children," Connor stated. "Androids can't age like humans do. Our appearances will never change, and our processing speeds will remain, but we grow more intelligent as we learn more information. However, our biocomponents can become outdated and tend to need replacements from time to time, for either repair or improvement."

"Sounds a lot more convenient than humans," I mumbled. "I'm sick of aging. I'm already starting to get a few gray hairs."

"Is that why you dye your hair that color?"

I stifled a laugh. "No, I just prefer how this color looks on me as opposed to my normal hair color. Well, when it's actually dyed, anyway. I've washed this red out so much that my hair's practically pink now. I'll have to dye my hair again soon, unless I want it to be white."

Connor turned his attention back to me. "What color is your hair normally?"

"Similar to yours," I said. "Dark brown."

His eyes scanned me over. "It would be nice to see you with that hair color at some point."

"That's going to be a while. My bleached hair has to grow out for that to happen."

Connor's eyes narrowed a bit as he leaned back into his seat. "Have you thought about growing your hair out at all?"

"God no," I laughed. "I haven't had my hair past my chin since second grade."

He didn't seem satisfied by this response. "I see."

"Connor, something's bugging you," I blurted. "Is it something to do with earlier today? Or when we were discussing emotions?"

He didn't respond. He strained his gaze in another direction, focusing on anything other than what I just said. I pursed my lips, impatiently waiting for a response. I didn't want to press it if he didn't want to say anything, but also, _Jesus fucking Christ_ I was getting sick of this. This came out of nowhere, too. We were talking completely normally only a few minutes ago, but then all of the sudden, something just completely distracted him.

"Connor," I repeated, just nearing the end of my shortened fuse, but trying to hold a patient voice. He didn't move. "Connor!" I broke.

"What?" he growled, flipping back to me furiously.

"Are you okay?"

He didn't move his gaze, but he didn't speak, either.

"Please, tell me something."

Connor let go of a heavy sigh. "It seems like a ridiculous thing to suggest to you," he muttered. "I know already that you won't like to hear what I have to say."

"What are you talking about?"

His jaw fell, but no words with it. Glancing away, it shut slowly once more, to where he resumed the same, distant position from before. I bit my lip, forcing back my anger. _I shouldn't force him to speak._ But I wanted to know. I wanted to help.

"Did the cold damage you more than you thought?" I asked carefully, expecting the worst.

Connor immediately shook his head. "No, it's nothing like that."

I paused, carefully picking out the next words I would say. I didn't want to pressure him one way or another. "What makes you think I won't want to hear what you have to say?"

His expression was blank. Sad, almost. He didn't meet my eyes once he finally gave his answer, however vague it ended up being. "Because of earlier today, when you told me about the end of your past career."

I tried to connect the pieces before pressing any further. I didn't like jumping to conclusions, but I didn't think he was going to say anything even remotely close to what the actual problem was until I suggested something. Was he upset I didn't want to pursue my art career again? Nothing else seemed to click that would have hit him out of the blue so suddenly. I asked, but he shook his head. "You'll hate me for saying this, but..." Connor's gaze fixed on the family from before once again, who was now exiting the building. "You could say I'm jealous of them."

I furrowed my brow.

"Connor, I... We've known each other for a day, what are you proposing --"

He didn't cut me off with any words. Our eyes merely met.

"Connor, I can't do that, you know I can't do that."

He didn't say anything, but he also didn't move his gaze.

"Connor..." I said his name without purpose, defeated.

A false smirk fell onto his face. "I told you, you wouldn't like to hear it," he exhaled.

I frowned. I was at a loss for words. I didn't know what to say, what to _think._

"What made you consider that?" I asked, my voice unintentionally nervous and hushed.

"Earlier today," he stated, "when that little girl showed up. I don't know what it was, but something about that moment clicked within me." Connor leaned his head into his palm, resting against the table. "Something about helping her struck me with..." His brow furrowed, lips pursing. "I don't know how to say it. It was as if I didn't care about my priorities anymore. I just wanted to help her, and make sure she was safe."

I faced the table for a moment. "But does that mean you want to raise a child?" I breathed. "Are you sure you aren't just looking for someone to protect? Something to look after?"

"There's a high probability," Connor replied, "but I can't quite figure it out. Not with any clear answer, anyway."

I didn't know what to say.

I couldn't relate to him. The thought of being in charge of a child made my stomach churn. But I couldn't shoot him down and tell him his dreams were terrible; there was nothing wrong with it at all.

That once small, humorous speculation crossed my mind again. A lump formed in my throat.

I didn't think an android would have an aspiration to be a father.

I didn't think he _could._

Kara approached us shortly after the silence fell between us. She was wearing a smile and a red skirt-and-leggings outfit, a thick, black winter jacket on top of it. Carrying a small purse over her shoulder, she asked, "Are you two ready to go? I just got off work."

Individually, we looked up to her. "Sounds good," I responded, putting up my best happy wall that I could for the time being.

As we left the building, following behind Kara, Connor reached for me; I felt his fingers brush against my palm. Instantly, I met his eyes. He offered me a gentle grin and a hand, not saying a word, his eyes glimmering with hope. I didn't know what the hope was for, but I could feel it. Maybe it was hope for the future. But what future?

I stared into his palm.

To be a designer again, to pick up my art supplies again. I haven't done that in years, and God, did I miss it dearly. I could see myself in my old studio again, sketches pasted wall-to-wall, a soft light from my computer screen being the only relief from the otherwise sealed, dark room. I would go to bed at 3 A.M. at the earliest most days, sleeping in until one in the afternoon. If I tried that again, where would it take me? Where were my skills now? Would I even become as much of a success as I was before? Is it even worth pursuing my past, or was my cycle of bad luck just destined to repeat itself?

To drop everything I once held and become a new person. In the past, I think I would have done anything in my power to restart, so many times over. I could forget all family I used to have, all the past I once held, and become a completely new person. I could travel the world without a care -- hell, I was already partly there. Would I change my name, too? Would I bring Connor with me, or would we split ways? Would it even be worth the effort, the money? Or would I just corner myself into another pitfall of failure?

To take Connor's hand, to even go so far as to marry him. It was a quick thought, hasty, even; but a consideration of mine. It was no lie that I had fallen for him hard, no way of coming back from this in sight. I didn't want to lose him. But we've already run into a major disagreement. What if there were more disagreements to come, ones that would risk our ability to even tolerate even being at each others' sides? Aside from that, even, what sanity would I be risking, what social acceptance would I be sacrificing, in marrying an android? Would I be caught? Ridiculed? Jailed? Killed?

To follow Connor's dream, to search for mine at a different time. I've always been incredibly indecisive: my decisions come in a split second or not at all. Maybe it would be better for me to follow in the footsteps of someone else and embrace their happiness, holding back aspirations until something struck a chord with me. I could learn to change, right? But the question was: would I change? What would happen if I were to choose to raise a child with Connor? Would I learn to love them? Would I abandon them? Would I abandon Connor? Would the child die in my care? Would I try to kill the child? Would I try to kill myself again -- and succeed?

I couldn't predict the future. As much as I wanted to, I knew I couldn't. I could ask a million questions and never receive an answer. I could ask as many "what ifs" as I wanted and scare myself only into doing nothing. The only way of reaching a conclusion was to _try_ something.

I took hold of Connor's hand.

This was my chance to change. My chance to restart.


	4. Scent of Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While shelter in Canada has been found, this is no where near the end of their problems.

Kara's home was populated, to say the least. It was a fair walking distance from Saffron, but not too horrifically far. The house itself was incredibly large, more so than I thought could be in a city, even though this was a more suburban area. It was two stories tall, taking up what looked to be two lots of land, still with a fairly large backyard and a garage. We entered through the lavish front door, almost instantly being greeted by a handful of people gathered and talking amongst themselves in what seemed to be a small living room. There seemed to be more even farther back into the house. 

We met Rose first. She was about the same height as me, though much more heavyset. Her curly black hair was pulled back, but not quite into a ponytail. Genuine care radiated from her, paired with a smile that felt as though it could cure every known human disease and beyond. Everything about her screamed to me, "She is the perfect, ideal mother." With her in the living room was her brother, Heath, and her son, Adam. Both of the men were of similar height, probably about as tall as Connor, which meant they towered far above me. All three of them were very kind to us upon first meeting us, hospitable far beyond my expectations. When we had properly introduced ourselves, me as a human and Connor as a deviant, that is when the joy began to wither. Rose, of the three, seemed the most interested in Connor's and my current well being, quickly offering us separate rooms to stay in and rest up. "You two must be tired from your long journey over the border," Rose had insisted. While we accepted the offer to rest, Connor stated that we would only need one for the two of us. In that moment, Adam seemingly instantaneously lost interest in interacting with the two of us, turning away back to the magazine he held in his hands. Even Rose, despite her overwhelmingly caring attitude, almost seemed taken aback by Connor's comment. I could feel my stomach twist in knots.

Rose led us upstairs; Kara followed. Apparently, her daughter, whose name I learned was Alice, had a room upstairs and she was going to wish Alice a good night. I learned that, as recent as only a few weeks ago, Alice used to have a father figure by the name of Luther, but while trying to cross the border, he ended up losing his life protecting both her and Kara. In the end, Kara was all Alice had -- but even when Kara told us about this, she didn't seem particularly upset. She was upset about the loss of Luther, of course. But it seemed like she cared for Alice far beyond what she cared for herself.

Connor and I were unable to meet Alice, as the girl was resting in bed, but Kara reassured us that we'd be able to meet her in the morning. I thought it odd that Alice would sleep, since Connor had told me it was unnecessary for androids to sleep, but I supposed there was either a difference in the models or it was like computers, where a good reset every once in a while was refreshing. Cracking open a white wooden door, Kara scurried silently into the pitch-black room and clicked the door shut behind her. Rose led Connor and I to the end of the hallway where a spare room was open. She asked once again if we were certain that we just wanted the one room -- "We have plenty of space, you know," she had said -- but Connor insisted. "It wouldn't be the first time we've shared a room," he informed her, as if it was a frequent occurrence rather than one single night. Rose still seemed a little uncertain by the prospect, but let us be. Connor let me enter the room first; he shut the door after himself, following close behind me.

I heaved a sigh, sprawling myself over the queen-sized bed at the center of the room. The blankets atop of it were woven with a soft, pink fabric; they smelled freshly washed, as if someone had pulled them out of the dryer only long enough for them to cool down. I took a deep breath, finally starting to relax. Finally, I was able to slow down. It had only been a single day, and yet, I felt as though I had been running for three weeks straight.

A warm hand pressed against me; I felt my center of balance shift as Connor sat down near to where I'd collapsed. Gently, he rubbed my back. It felt different, as though I was a cat or dog being pet. I rolled over closer to him, resting my head in his lap. He chuckled, adjusting himself to rub my stomach instead. Yeah, I really just felt like some kind of pet. Problem was, my stomach was extremely ticklish, so it was a lot harder to maintain my composure in this position. Connor didn't seem to catch on at first, but he did realize that I had a different reaction, or so it seemed by his gradual shift in expression. He began scratching my stomach instead; it was even harder to not burst out laughing. My brain was spinning, forcing myself to not even twitch. Unfortunately, this is when Connor began to notice my struggle -- it was very obvious when the devious smirk stretched across his face. He attacked, tickling with both hands. I didn't last two more seconds, exploding with laughter.

"C - Connor," I gaped, giggling in between my every breath. "S - stop, omigod, stop!" My involuntary laughter would not cease. I grabbed at his wrists, trying to push his hands away, but he only found this beneficial and started tickling my sides instead. I couldn't help but howl with laughter. He, too, was losing it, but he was instead laughing  _ at _ me in my time of suffering. Only when I started to force his arms away by kicking did Connor finally stop. I started breathing heavily, slowly regaining all the energy I had lost. Connor was still laughing at my involuntarily ridiculous behavior. "You're an ass," I heaved.

"I'm sorry," he apologized though his amusement. "I wanted to hear your laughter." He brought a hand up near my face, pushing away some stray bangs that had fallen by my eyes while struggling to escape his tickle-attack. He smiled wide. "You've been too quiet since we left the restaurant. I missed your voice."

It was such a cliché thing to say. My instinct upon hearing him saying that was to laugh and believe it was a stupid line he came up with just for the sake of following it up with getting me to do something he wanted. But then I realized how little sense that would have made. Although it was cliché, I couldn't have expected him to know that. After all, he was still learning. His statements were all far too genuine at this point to hold any condescending, disguised meanings.

I reached my hand to his cheek. His skin was soft and warm, no differently than any time before now. The only changing condition is that now I had the time, and the sobriety, to appreciate it. I gingerly started brushing my thumb over his cheekbone; he leisurely leaned into it, relaxing and shutting his eyes. I let my palm trace its way over to his ear, toying a bit at its figure. It was stiff: not quite solid, but it was nothing like the cartilage of my own. I rubbed just a little bit behind his ear, which caused Connor to visually wince. "Sorry," I whispered. "Did that hurt?"

"No," he muttered. "It just doesn't feel good."

"I'll avoid it, okay?" I smiled, although his eyes were still closed, and slid my fingers into his hair instead. His hair strands, too, differed greatly from my own: they were thicker, unnaturally so, and incredibly stiff. Yet, at the same time, they didn't feel as rough as they probably should have, given their artificial state. In fact, his hair was remarkably soft, a bit like it was freshly washed and still damp. His scalp, on the other hand, was hot. Boiling hot. It hurt to touch; I retaliated almost immediately upon realizing. Connor's eyes snapped awake, attention focused on the hand I potentially just burned. He, within a moment, cupped it in both of his palms, retracting his skin. However, this time, instead of the pulsing blue blood in his hands generating heat, they were cold, like an instant ice pack. I was relieved of the pain in a few seconds time, but Connor gave the burn a quick peck, just for good measure. I couldn't help it: a breathy laugh slipped passed my lips. "Stop being so damn cute for a second, will you?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible until you no longer see my actions as 'cute,' ____." He gave me a wink.

I rolled my eyes, but my heart was racing the second he said my name.

I pushed myself back so I could sit upright -- a wisely chosen time, at that, because someone knocked on the door the second I did so. I rose with the intention of going to open it, but it opened from other side by itself. Kara poked her head through, a smile on her face. "Sorry to intrude," she spoke, opening the door completely in order to let herself in.

"No, no, don't worry about it," I said.

Kara stepped inside the room, pulling up a seat from near the closet. "I hope you two are fairing all right so far. I know everything has probably gone by really quickly for you," she began. "They just reported about it on the news -- 'an android under the surveillance of CyberLife has become a deviant and was last seen heading for the Canadian border at 5:50 P.M. EST,' they said. By the sound of it, it seems the U.S. president has already started communicating with the Canadian prime minister to see if there have been any sightings." She focused her gaze on Connor, a sadness enveloping her eyes. "Your face has been posted internationally. I'm glad I was able to bring you here, but... I don't know how long you'll be able to stay."

"They'll have to give up eventually," I stated, trying to sound positive.

"It's unlikely," Connor disagreed. "Canada doesn't have any set-in-stone laws about androids yet, but they still haven't permitted them into the country. It's likely that we'll have to make a journey far into Canada to avoid being caught, with even better chances if we change our names." But even as he stated this plan, he didn't sound convinced. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten you dragged into this." Connor sighed, twisting his head so he was no longer even remotely facing me. "I was actually just about to leave this morning, when the FBI started banging on your door and woke you up. If... If I'd been a few minutes faster, you wouldn't have to worry about me like this, or be risking your life for my sake."

"We've been over this," I snapped. "I'm here because I want to be. There's a million things I could have done by now if I didn't want to help you." But Connor didn't respond. I heaved a sigh, turning back to Kara. "Sorry," I mumbled.

"No, it's not a problem," she responded. "I understand. I was in your shoes just a few weeks ago." She offered me a warm smile, but it didn't really match her eyes, which were instead sympathetic and weeping. Dipping back into the wavering frown from earlier, Kara exchanged a glance between the two of us. "Excuse me if this is wrong of me to ask, but," she began cautiously, "what is the relationship between you two?"

I turned to Connor, wondering if he would answer before I would. He, instead, pulled the same motion and we both ended up locking eyes. It was pretty clear: we both didn't know what to call it. I tried to search for a word, but it ended up being Connor who took up the reigns.

He faced Kara, answering, "I need her, and she needs me. That's... all there really is to it."

Kara didn't react how I thought she would. I was expecting revolt, disgust, or straight up denying us, if not just genuine concern for our mental states. Instead, she grinned softly, switching her gaze from Connor over to me. "I see," she smiled. "It makes sense. I had a feeling that was the case."

"E -" I croaked, not intending to speak initially, but now all eyes were on me. I forced down a gulp. "Even though... Even though I'm a human, you don't find it to be strange?"

Kara shook her head. "You see, when I met Alice, I thought she was human. Her... supposed father at the time had purchased her to pose as his daughter that he lost during a divorce, but my memory was wiped after I had been destroyed by him, so I didn't recall her at all. I didn't come to the conclusion that she wasn't human until hours before I arrived at the border." Her eyes closed, the smile on her face growing wider. With a deep breath, she opened her eyes and continued, "But it didn't matter to me. It still doesn't matter to me. I need Alice, and she needs me. I would be willing to do anything for her security and safety." Kara looked between the two of us, a bit of uncertainty lining her expression. "Maybe it's different for you both, but at the same time, I know humans and androids can coexist without problem. It just takes some understanding and care.

"Anyways, sorry, I didn't mean to bring things off track. I meant to come here and pass along some information from Rose," Kara explained, changing the topic.

"Why didn't Rose just come and tell us?" I asked, fearing that Connor and I had scared her away.

"Rose was just heading to bed when we started talking, so she asked me to pass along the message," Kara answered. "I suppose you'll take more benefit from the information than Connor, but I figure there's no use in telling just one of you."

She told me that Rose was okay with us staying here for as long as we needed, and that I was free to use the shower and eat food as I wanted without worrying about spending money. Instinct wanted to deny the kind gesture, but I didn't think I was really in the situation to allow myself to do that. Instead, I thanked Kara for telling me this, with plans of thanking Rose just as much in the morning for such a gracious offer. Before she continued, Kara asked if I was planning to go to sleep soon, but I told her that I was still settling down from the day -- and might end up taking up that offer to take a shower -- before I finally settled down to sleep. She nodded in acceptance of this response.

"I hate to ask something from you two so on-the-spot like this," Kara continued, "but I need to ask a favor from you both for tomorrow."

"What is it?" Connor prompted.

She sighed. "Alice's school called off for snow tomorrow. Apparently, there's a huge storm rolling in that's supposed to total around two feet of snow. Unfortunately, I have scheduled work tomorrow, and can't take off to look after her."

"What about Rose, Heath, and Adam?" I asked, already fearing where this was headed.

"Heath has work, while Rose and Adam are taking some of the androids that are still here further into Canada. Rose asked me if you two were interested in going with her, but I said I didn't know, partially since I wanted to ask if you two would be willing to look after Alice." She shook her head. "You don't need to accept, don't feel like you have to. I completely understand the situation you two are in and the risk you'd be taking by staying behind for me."

"No, it's fine. We'll stay behind," Connor answered for the both of us. I flipped my attention to him immediately. He merely flashed me an all-knowing smile, one I was not happy to see after he said that.

"You will?" Kara replied joyously. "Thank you so much. It won't be too much of a hassle, I promise. Alice is a very quiet girl, but she's very sweet." She continued to give us instructions for the day, most of which were very simple and pretty hard to mess up, but my heart was still racing with an overwhelming fear the more she kept talking about the topic. I hoped Connor was retaining this information more than I was, because after a while, Kara's voice was going through one ear and out the other for me.

"It's starting to get late," I heard Kara say once I finally tuned back into the conversation. "I'll let you take that shower you wanted to, ____. I don't often sleep, so I'll be downstairs for the night if either of you need me."

She rose from her seat, moving it back to where it was originally. The second the door clicked shut behind her, I snapped, "Fuck. You."

"What?" Connor responded, but that knowing tone to his voice confessed that he was already well aware of what I was talking about.

I twisted back to face him, seeing that same stupid smirk on his face. "You know damn well what I'm talking about. The hell is wrong with you? Accepting without even a thought that the two of us should take care of a child for the day? Are you fucking insane?"

"Not at all," he answered calmly. "I'm sure it won't be as bad as you think it'll be. Besides, think of it as practice." He finalized his argument with a wink.

"Ohhh, no. No, no, no, Connor, this is not  _ practice _ for anything," I fought back. "I thought you understood that this isn't just a normal 'Meh, kids suck'-kind of thing but instead a full-blown  _ fear? _ That I tried to  _ kill myself _ over this once before?"

He sighed, placing a hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off. "It won't be as bad as you think, I promise," he insisted.

"Fuck you," I repeated. "You don't have a damn clue." I rose immediately, briskly walking out the door without another word. I went to take a shower.

The bathroom was directly across the hall, so I didn't have to go very far. Even so, it felt relieving just to be by myself for a little while. I didn't want to snap on him, I really didn't, but I knew at the same time Connor didn't fully understand what I went through and I didn't know anything else to get it through his skull. Or, whatever androids have instead of a skull.

As I was taking off my clothes, I realized there was still the fabric wrapped around my arm from earlier today. It had loosened dramatically; I had forgotten about it completely. I went to go and remove it from my arm, instead finding myself embracing it in my palm. My arm no longer hurt, so I assumed the wound had healed, just as I thought it was going to. Connor  _ had _ overreacted. I finally pulled loose the fabric, seeing only the inside had actually been dyed red, but it was over a fair amount of space. The gash wasn't pretty, to say the least, but it had solidified into a thick, dark scab covering my arm. I folded up the piece of fabric, putting it carefully into my jacket pocket before continuing.

I took my time in the shower, allowing myself to calm down before I even thought of going back to the other room. Frankly, I could have stood in there for much longer, but my fingertips had begun to wrinkle and wither, so I figured it was best to step out of the water before I ruined my already deteriorating skin any more. Instead, I spent the rest of the time sitting on the floor in a towel, staring at the clothes I had bought earlier today. From my jacket pocket still stuck out that piece of fabric. I, not knowing why, exactly, reached for it.

It had probably come from the jacket Connor had been wearing yesterday. Aside from my blood coating the one half, that side seemed otherwise as smooth as a windbreaker; it was the same pattern of white, gray, and black on the opposing, as I remembered. The thought was stupid, but I couldn't resist it: I lifted it closer to me, taking in a breath. It didn't smell like anything other than my own blood. I was disappointed, but not surprised. Frankly, if Connor had his own distinct scent, wouldn't I have noticed it by now? I shook the thought out of my head, shoving the fabric back into my jacket pocket and dressed myself in of half my clothes -- my underwear and my shirt, really. I wasn't planning on sleeping in anything else. I collected the rest of my stuff from the bathroom, including the towel I used, and quietly made my way back to the room across the hall.

I was unsurprised to find Connor still sitting at the edge of the bed, leaned over with his arms against his legs. He tipped his head up when I closed the door behind me, a sort of sulk covering his face. He blinked frantically, as if he had just been crying. I quickly set down all that was in my arms, hastily making my way over to him once again. "Connor, are you okay?" I asked cautiously.

"I apologize for my behavior earlier," he mumbled, not hesitating with his response. "I wasn't thinking. I made light of a situation that was far too serious."

"I accept the apology," I told him, "but that didn't answer my question. Are you okay?"

Connor faced me, confused. "Yes, I'm fine," he answered sincerely. "Why are you concerned about me? I'm the one who hurt you."

"Because I still  _ care _ about you," I reminded him. "People get mad over things sometimes, but it's not the end of the world, and I have no need to hold a grudge over you for it."

"But --"

"Hey, now, we don't need to argue about why I'm  _ not _ arguing." Connor fell silent. "I'm not mad anymore, okay? I've cleared my head. I'm not necessarily happy with the decision you've made for us tomorrow, but I'll make it through just fine. Don't worry about it. If anything happens, I'll tell you."

He sighed, eyes trailing from mine down to my arm. In a split second, his palm reached for me, realizing the exposed wound. "Your arm," he breathed. "Is it doing any better? It doesn't look so good."

"It looks fairly healed to me, or at least as healed as it's going to be for now with that giant scab."

"You say that, but... it looks infected," Connor stated, dragging his thumb across its rough surface. "We really ought to get it checked it out sooner rather than later. I only have first-aid techniques in memory, otherwise I would be able to do something myself."

"I don't think it's infected," I disagreed, "otherwise it would hurt when you touch it. I'm sure I'll be fine, Connor, don't worry about it."

He seemed uncertain, but didn't have any further argument.

I slid passed him, crawling up to the head of the bed. I grabbed a handful of the blankets, burying myself in them with my head rested against the soft pillows. Connor made eye contact with me, but he remained sitting upright. "Are you going to stay awake for the night, or are you going to stay here?" I asked.

"I'm no so sure," he replied, bewilderment trimming his tone. "I don't want to bother you."

"Well, to bother me the least, you should stay here."

But Connor frowned. "Are you sure about that? You overheated last night after I slept next to you for no more than ten minutes."

"I'm sure. If I'm gonna die, I'd rather it be at your side."

"I'm not really sure if that is the best way to assess this situation --"

"Just cuddle with me already, goddamnit."

Connor sighed with defeat. He unzipped his jacket, throwing it to the ground, and then crawled up by my side. I had been expecting his body heat, and yet I was still surprised with just how burning hot it was. I wanted more than anything to stay at his side, but good god, it was going to be hard to do this continually.

Connor pressed a hand against my forehead. "You're already hot," he stated.

"Don't worry about it," I breathed, shaking my head. "It's not a problem. I could just crawl out of these blankets, then I'll be fine." I tried to act on my words, but Connor held me in place, beginning to sit upright once more. I tipped my head towards him, to which he left me with a quick kiss on the forehead.

"Don't push yourself, please," he stated. "I'll just wait for you until morning."

"No," I insisted, continuing to pull myself out of the blankets. "I'll be fine, really. Honestly."

He still wasn't exactly impressed, but thankfully, I think he realized he wasn't getting out of this. "How about this?" he suggested. "I'll drop my internal temperature a bit so it doesn't hurt you as much, but that means we have to stay close enough so  _ I _ can take some of  _ your _ body heat." The suggestion was tied off with a smirk.

"You say that like I'd say no for some reason," I laughed. "Of course I'm okay with that."

He grabbed the bunch of blankets, joining me underneath them. "Good," he whispered, leaning his forehead against mine.

I, for a brief moment, thought about the cloth from earlier.  _ He has to have some scent, I just haven't paid attention to it with all this stress and being drunk, _ I thought. Even if it wasn't human-like, everything had  _ some _ kind of scent. That's just how the world worked.

I nuzzled closer to him, inhaling a large breath of air.

I still just smelled the scent of blood.

△▽△▽△▽

Connor accidentally woke me up at about 5 A.M., but I couldn't bring myself to fall back asleep, despite how tired I was. He didn't know I was awake, or so I figured, since I didn't really make it known that I had actually woken up. He rose up from the bed, wrapping what blankets he moved back around me, and took a few steps towards the door. I didn't see him, but I heard his movements. For a moment, they stopped, turning back around. I tried to peak at what he was doing, but I'd barely cracked my eyes open when I spotted him leaning over to me. I felt his hand pressed against the pillow behind my head, offsetting my position, as he balanced over me. For a while, he didn't do anything: I could hear the humming of his systems, feel some slight air movement against my cheeks, and sense his body heat radiating off of him. I didn't move, but I was running low on patience, anticipating what he was planning on doing.

He let go of a sigh. "I can't do it," he whispered, forehead pressed against my temple. "Why am I so unable to leave you behind? This is the second day in a row where I've found myself turning back around." Connor pushed himself off of me, instead choosing to sit down on the side of the bed he was previously lying on. His hand pressing against my side, he rubbed it gingerly. I couldn't help but twist a bit, a smile forming out of its own free will. He didn't seem to notice or react to the action much at first, since his reactions remained unchanging. I accepted this petting as a new, normal occurance. It felt nice, anyway -- no wonder animals liked being pet so much.

Connor retracted his hand. The cold of not having him by me started to settle in. "I hate emotions," Connor cursed under his breath. "This would have been much easier before I started thinking for myself. I wouldn't even be here if I didn't start thinking for myself." He settled further into the mattress, staying quiet for a long time. "I'd be dead if I didn't start thinking for myself," Connor whispered finally.

He sighed with defeat, curling back up next to me and wrapping his arm around my torso, pulling me close to his chest. "I guess I'll just have to accept that I'm much weaker now." His voice was quiet and breathy against my ear. I decided to show that I was awake now; I pulled my hand out from under the blankets, pressing my palm against his cheek. Connor froze for a minute, his grasp loosened, before he chuckled softly. "Ah, so you  _ have _ been awake this whole time."

"Sorry," I apologized. "I didn't want to bother you."

"You didn't," he replied, "but I'm sorry I woke you up. It's still early, would you like to go back to sleep?"

"Nah, I'm awake now. No point in trying."

"Then we ought to get up."

"But I like lying here like this."

Connor sighed. "We can't stay this way forever."

"Why not?" I pouted.

He pressed a kiss against my lips. "We have things to do. Kara's depending on us, remember? I'd rather not disappoint her. Besides, you have to eat. You're low on energy."

"I'm 'low on energy' because  _ someone _ woke me up early," I teased, pressing a kiss against him in return.

In a split second, Connor shifted, his hand removed from my torso. I opened my eyes finally to see what he was up to, only to see myself being forcibly pulled up from underneath the blankets. "Hey, this isn't fair!" I blurted, now unwillingly picked up into a bridal-style carry. Connor merely flashed a smirk as he carried me out of the room without another comment. I just pouted the whole way down the stairs -- that was, until I caught sight of Kara, who I forgot was awake downstairs all night until just now. Then my annoyance turned into pure embarrassment once I realized she spotted the situation we were in. God, can I just go back upstairs, please?

"Oh, you two are awake," Kara commented, as if there was absolutely nothing wrong with this situation whatsoever. Thankfully, in that moment, Connor let me back down, my feet finally touching floorboard again. "It's a bit early, isn't it? I didn't think you would be up for a couple of hours yet."

"Eh, sometimes I wake up early," I lied to Kara, covering up for literally everything that just happened.

She nodded in understanding. "Alice should be up within the next hour or so. Ah... I would advise you get some pants on before that." Kara eyed me, a bit of laughter lining her expression.

I blinked.

"Goddamnit, Connor," I cursed, glaring at him as I walked back upstairs. He had a look of confusion, as if to say, "Why is this  _ my _ fault?"

I made my way back to the room as quietly as possible, slipping on not only my pair of leggings once more, but also a pair of socks, as well. Wood floors were cold, after all. My way downstairs again was more slowed than the first, partially due to my much,  _ much _ shorter legs, but mostly due to the fact that I was not in any rush. The stairs weren't very loud, I noticed, despite my expectations for loud squeaking noises, since they were made from wood. With this, I was able to hear that Connor and Kara had begun talking amongst themselves. It wasn't much -- just the events through yesterday -- but I was curious to hear where they would take it from here, so I sat myself at one of the lowest steps and leaned against the wall.

"I wouldn't have expected to hear that the  _ perfect _ 'deviant hunter' made a flaw," Kara commented jokingly. "I wonder what made you read her as an android, though."

"I guess her complexion is similar enough to some AX300 models that my system was able to read it that way while driving along quickly." Connor heaved a heavy breath. "I didn't think it was possible for me to do something wrong."

"CyberLife said you were the most advanced model, right?"

"Until the model RK900 was developed, yes."

"Well, if they went ahead and made another model, don't you think it's possible that you weren't exactly perfect in their eyes?" Kara laughed slightly. "As far as most humans are concerned, you're a defect, since you're with the rest of us deviants, now."

Connor merely hummed in a disappointed agreement.

"Even though we were made to be more efficient than humans, I don't think anything can ever be made perfectly, Connor. That goes for you, too."

The conversation fell silent. I was about to step in to the room when Connor finally decided to reply. "You say that, but I  _ was _ designed to work without fail. I shouldn't have messed up like I did. I should be able to still do what I  _ have _ to, but I keep getting... sidetracked." He grumbled in annoyance. "I'm not supposed to be able to fail," he breathed.

"Are you really sure you're failing, though?" Kara asked. "What if this is just the path you're supposed to be on, but you just haven't realized it yet?"

"No, that can't be it. Why would I ever need to be on a path where I get pulled accross Canada with a human strapped to my back? I need to leave on my own. I shouldn't bother her anymore. I keep saying that -- I know that I should do that, but..."

"I get that you don't want to keep bothering ____, but she cares for you. You don't have to do everything by yourself. What do you even plan to do by yourself, anyway?"

"I..." His voice trailed off, despite his initially confident reaction. "I don't know," he muttered. "I don't know."

I heard Kara rise from a seat; it sounded like a couch squeak. "You should stay here for a while to think about it. I know the government's looking for you at every corner, but we'll keep watch over you here so nothing will happen." I heard the clutter of glasses. "How are your thirium levels? Do you need any more?"

"I'm fine," Connor replied, distaste trimming his voice.

The cluttering stopped. "Tell me, Connor. What do you think of ____?"

There was a pause, neither of them making any movement. "What do you mean?" he replied cautiously.

"What does she mean to you? You told me yesterday that you needed her, right? But what does she  _ mean _ to you, as a person?"

My attention perked up, nervous for what he might say. I would have been less afraid, had I not just heard him say multiple times this morning that he had plans of stepping up and walking out at any moment, but now I couldn't help but fear that I had gotten far too attached to him far too quickly. I dug my nails into the wooden stair that I sat in, leaning forward to see if I could catch a glimpse of Connor's face.

"She means everything to me," he breathed. "Every time I try to leave her side, I find myself unable to do it. I don't know where else to go, what else to do. I don't have a clue as to what I want to do, now that my eyes have been opened, but... I want to be at her side when I do it." I could see him, just barely, but I could see him just enough to notice how he was beginning to switch from a very slumped position to a more stiff, straightened pose. "Twice, yesterday, we ran into some little kids. The first one was looking for her mother, while the other had just wandered away from his family at Saffron. For the brief time those children were near us, I had the... strangest of thoughts. Like, I needed to protect them immediately. Like, the three of us were somehow binded as a family, despite only seeing those kids for such short amounts of time. But ____ didn't agree. She's terrified of children." He shook his head. "I don't know what to make of these thoughts. She wants nothing to do with children, and yet..."

"You," Kara commented, seemingly surprised, "want to have kids?"

"I don't know," Connor repeated, "but it has crossed my mind."

The conversation fell silent.

"I should go see what's taking her so long," Connor commented, rising from his seat. I panicked, scrambling to stand up and walk out as normally as possible, but ended up slipping and falling the second I stood up, since I caught my heel on the back of the stair behind me. I didn't tumble far -- and I didn't even hit the ground, since an arm caught me before my face could make contact with the floor. I turned a bit, balancing myself upright on my elbow as if I were doing a plank, to see Connor's surprised expression. It was no surprise for me, though. "Or, you're right here already," he declared, helping me stand upright and dusting off my shoulders.

"So, how long were you standing behind the wall for?" Kara asked, not even pretending that she had no idea I was there. I gritted my teeth; Connor tipped his head to the side.

"Ever since you were talking about whether or not Connor was perfect," I muttered, pissed off that Kara had called me out.

Connor, on the other hand, was sputtering a bit, a light dusting of blue covering his cheeks. "You were listening to all of that?"

"Yeah, sorry," I mumbled. "I should have walked out much earlier than I did."

Connor didn't answer.

"Alice should be awake soon," Kara announced. "If you'd like to eat before she gets up, I'd recommend doing that now."

I wanted to tell her I didn't need anything, but before I could even think of speaking, Connor stepped towards the kitchen that Kara was standing in and declared, "I'll make you something."

"What? No, Connor, don't do that, I really don't need anything."

"You've only had one meal since we left."

"I usually only eat one full meal a day anyway," I declared.

He stopped, turning to face me with the most amount of discontent that I've ever seen across his face. "You're going to eat," he demanded, immediately going back to work.

"Goddamnit, Connor, seriously," I complained, marching towards the kitchen. He had already started collecting  _ way _ more ingredients than should be necessary for a single-person breakfast. "You don't need to do this --"

Without warning, he snatched up my arm, his skin removed back to his standard android-white hand. Connor made eye contact with me, disappointment still written all over his face. "Your health is incredibly poor. You're low on almost all vitamins and minerals necessary for human sustainability. This is not fixable with one meal, but I'll have to work with you on making a better diet."

"Oh, come on, I'm still alive, aren't I? What does it matter what I eat?" I whined, shaking his hand off of me. He took it back without a word, working intensely on making... frankly, I didn't have a clue, but it involved eggs, vegetables, and bread, somehow. "I was going to just have toast. What's wrong with toast?"

"It doesn't have the nutritional value you need," he answered plainly, not taking his eyes off of his work.

"I don't think you're going to get anywhere by arguing," Kara grinned. "He seems pretty intent on making something for you, so you should probably just let him be."

My attention tuned to Kara, feeling defeated, not to mention disappointed that she wouldn't help me; but I eventually walked away, angrily pulling out a chair at the table where Kara was sitting and plopped down. I glared at Connor, who caught sight of me only briefly. He left me only with a smirk -- that  _ stupid _ smirk of his. God, every time I saw it, it was pissing me off more and more. I childishly stuck out my tongue.

Kara and I were left to talk for a while. She had before her a glass of thin, dark blue liquid -- I assumed it was blue blood, quickly finding myself most weirded out by the fact that androids could restore their blood by drinking it, of all things. I tried to hide my disgust to the best of my ability, avoiding eye contact with the liquid and focusing more so on our conversation. We talked about a few, mostly menial things -- how she was sustaining herself since arriving in Canada, how Alice was doing in school since arriving to Canada, why I decided to make the change to suddenly drop everything and go to Canada, basically a lot of things to do with Canada. More than anything, it began to sink in that I was actually  _ in _ Canada now. Though a Canadian citizen with dreams of moving and avoiding the U.S. for the rest of eternity my whole life, I never had the budget for it. But now I was here -- and despite the circumstances, I was beyond joyous at that realization. Finally, at least something I wanted in life actually happened for once. Though I'm sure it would get fucked up one way or another.

After about twenty minutes, Connor set before me an overflowing plate of food. I stared at it for a second, absolutely shocked at the amount... not to mention that it actually looked  _ really _ well done. The meal was mostly scrambled eggs, though chopped up vegetables of varying kinds were mixed in with it. On the side was two, pre-cut slices of French toast, though it seemed there was an absence of syrup. Knowing Connor's obsession with health, which seemed very all-of-a-sudden, if I'm being honest; I doubted that he would have been okay with me asking for some. He placed next to the plate a glass full of what looked to be orange juice. I didn't like oranges, but I didn't figure asking for something else was within reason to him, either. He placed a fork at the side of the plate, sitting next to me immediately after. I turned to face him: he was sitting uncomfortably proper, seemingly waiting for me to start eating. I couldn't tell if he was eager to see what I thought of it or just proud of himself for making something with as many different ingredients as he could find.

I picked up the fork, scooping up a bit of the scrambled eggs. One bite in, and I already knew this was going to be far easier to finish that I had originally thought. "Thanks, Connor," I spoke. "It's really good."

"I'm glad you think so," he replied proudly.

From upstairs, it sounded like something fell. Kara's eyes instantly drew to the staircase as she slid back in her chair. "I'll be right back," she said quickly, rushing up from her seat and up the stairs. Despite the awkward silence that fell once she had left, I was actually glad it was a long while until Kara came back downstairs: I had enough time to finish my plate by the time they showed up. However, when I went to take the plate to the sink and rinse it off -- you know, by myself, since I'm a perfectly capable adult -- Connor decided to do it himself. "You don't have to keep acting like some kind of servant, you know, I can do this stuff," I said, trying my best to not speak as aggressive as I felt.

Connor just flashed a smile, otherwise ignoring my statement, as he placed the rinsed-off plate in a pile with some others. Without another word, he strolled right passed me, headed towards Alice and Kara, who had just emerged from the stairs into the living room. I rolled my eyes, rising from my seat and reluctantly following behind him.

Alice was still fairly tired, or so it looked, based on her sleepy brown eyes. Her long, brunette hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail; she was wearing a woolen black sweater paired with striped leggings and white socks. She didn't reach any taller than Kara's chest, putting her about a head-and-a-half shorter than me. Clutched in her arms was a brown fox doll. Seeing it reminded me of my own childhood stuffed animals -- and reminded me how they were now far behind me, left back in my broken apartment in Detroit. Alice glanced over both Connor and I, but when she turned to Connor, she immediately clung closer to Kara. "Kara, isn't that..."

"Yes, he is the man who chased us across the freeway before. But don't worry, he's changed. He's a deviant now, like us." Kara knelt down at her daughter's side. "You don't need to worry. Connor isn't going to hurt you, and he certainly isn't going to separate us, either." She gave a kind smile to Connor, passing it along to me. "And this is ____. She's human, but she's nice, like Rose and the others. I know you don't necessarily like being around strangers without me, but I'm afraid I have to go to work in a couple of hours. I won't be out late tonight, but I'll be gone all day."

"Where is Rose?" Alice asked. Kara explained how Rose and Adam are headed further into Ontario for the day, and that Heath would be at work until late in the evening. Alice seemed disappointed at this news, but it was hard to tell, since she had a very similar expression across her face with seemingly every emotion. Maybe she was just feeling one emotion... was she scared? God, I'm so bad with kids.

Connor, on the other hand, took an initiative right away. He knelt down, similarly to Kara, and greeted Alice with a warm grin. "Hi, Alice," he spoke calmly. "My name is Connor. It's nice to meet you properly after our last interaction."

She, although still staying close to Kara's side, responded to Connor with a smile and nod. I was relieved to see it and I hadn't even done anything yet. The second that thought of relief hit my mind, however, Connor snatched my wrist, pulling me down to their level; I tried to force the motion into a more natural sitting position with my legs crossed. I flickered my gaze to him out of the corner of my eye; Connor merely prompted for me to say something by gesturing to Alice. I quickly turned back to her. "Hey, Alice," I stuttered, hastily saying the first thing that I could think of. "I'm ____. It's good to meet you."

I haven't had so much panic swirling in my brain since I was in college.

But Alice accepted my greeting, despite how awkward it was, with a smile similar to the one she offered Connor. We all rose up from the ground shortly after -- I being the last one to follow, since I hadn't caught on to the memo right away -- and Kara went to spend the last couple of hours she had before work playing games with her daughter. I was slowly coming to the realization that would have to be  _ me _ once those two hours were up. It made me want to disguise myself as a goddamn android and hop onto whatever vehicle Rose and Adam were currently driving to a place as far away from here as possible. Or, maybe I'd just take the easy route: going back home. God, what am I saying? I dropped everything to come here, and now I'm already considering running away? What's the point of starting a new life if I wasn't going to commit to it?

I glanced to Alice, who was balancing her fox in her lap as she tried to play Jenga with Kara.  _ But is this really the new kind of life I want to commit to? _ I asked myself.

I felt a bit of heat against my fingers; I twisted my head towards it instantly, seeing Connor's exposed white hand against mine. I trailed my gaze up towards his eyes; he, silently, seemed to be asking me, "Are you going to be okay?" I just closed my eyes, facing forward with a slight nod. He held my hand tighter. I just squeezed his back in response.

A few moments later, the TV turned on. I opened my eyes, assuming Connor was the culprit for this, since his attention was pasted to it, sitting next to me on the couch. I, only for the sense of drowning out everything else, decided to watch what was playing, which happened to be the news. I didn't think they'd be showing the news this early in the morning, but it didn't really matter.

I was still tired. The more I watched the news, bored out of my mind, the more I just wanted to lean into Connor's shoulder and fall right back to sleep. Unfortunately, I was going to have to stay awake for the rest of the day, or at least until Kara came back from her shift. In an hour or so, I would be in charge of watching over Alice. The anxiety of waiting for Kara to leave was scratching at my chest, leaving deep, aching wounds that would probably last for the day, no matter what I did to try and fix them, unless something worse happened. I, over and over again, tried to block out these panicked thoughts by watching the TV, only to find myself falling into the same pit without fail. I only grounded myself by gripping Connor's hand, prodding a reassuring squeeze from him in response. It was a vicious, hour-long cycle.

I finally was broken out of this loop when I heard Kara's voice speaking to Alice across the room, telling her she needed to get ready for work. Heath had gotten up at this point as well, also prepping to leave. Upon seeing him walk into the kitchen, I instinctively went to separate myself from Connor, but Connor just grabbed my hand back rather aggressively. I pleaded Heath wouldn't be concerned, and as it seemed, he didn't really pay attention to what we were doing, and made his way out of the house looking both tired from lack of sleep and tired of going to work in the first place.

Kara soon made her way back to the living room, now dressed similarly to how she was yesterday as we left Saffron. "Alright, Alice, I'll be leaving now." She knelt down by her daughter, who was still playing with her fox doll by the coffee table near the entrance of the house, and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. Connor stood up from where he had been sitting, making his way around the couch. I continued to sit, just watching at a distance. "Connor and ____ will be here with you for the day. I'll be back by 2:00, okay?"

Alice gave Kara a hug. "Have a good day," she said, a surprising bit of positivity filling her speech.

Kara returned the embrace. "Thank you. I'll see you later." As she stood up again, she faced both Connor and I with a smile. "Like I said, I'll be back around 2:00. Make sure to get a hold of me if something happens," she reminded us. "Again, I can't thank you two enough for doing this for me."

"It's not a problem," Connor grinned.

Kara waved to Alice another goodbye as she left the house.


	5. Everything Will Work Out in the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet snow day is just like any other day: a day that was intended to be peaceful, but is once again, a never-ending hell.

The house fell silent. Frankly, the silence wasn't very long, but it felt like a long time, as the realization of a spotlight shining on me for the rest of the day began to sink in. Connor, on the other hand, went to talk to Alice immediately, speaking to her so naturally as if he'd been destined to do so. I, on the other hand, remained completely frozen where I sat, staring at the TV, which was now muted.

I only marginally paid attention to the things going on around me for a while, trying to keep my sanity more than anything.  _ I shouldn't be this scared, I shouldn't be this frozen, _ kept repeating in my head, over and over, without fail, but also without change. I caught a glimpse of Connor bringing Alice over by me, the TV channel switching from the silent news station to a children's show of some sort. Alice watched it intently, her fox still in her grasp. That fox of hers. It was clearly very special to her. She has never let it go, not once since I've seen her today. I couldn't help it -- it reminded me of the childhood toys I had, especially my black labrador plush. I'd had that toy since I could remember, and probably before that. We had never been separated, I brought her everywhere. I could still see her sitting on my shelf next to my bed, back in my Detroit apartment.

I shook my head. I should stop being so sentimental.

"You really like that fox plush," I stated, my voice quiet, but Alice still heard me anyway. She flicked her gaze from me to the doll, holding it closer to her chest with a toothy grin. "What's the fox's name?"

"Toby," she answered immediately. "Kara gave her to me."

"Ah, no wonder you keep her so close to you."

She held her smile proudly, turning back to the TV show. Within seconds, I felt a hand press against my shoulder. I turned, only to be met by Connor's knowing expression. "See, you can do this," he whispered. "It'll just take some practice."

I didn't feel confident that speaking to a child out of my own volition one time was a good way of deciding that, but I didn't feel like saying so. It wasn't worth arguing over, especially not with Alice right in front of us.

I soon grew bored of the show, not to mention starting to ache from sitting in the same chair for what was going on three hours straight by now. Figuring it would be best to stretch out my legs, I rose from the couch, making my way to no where particular in the house. But, I supposed, if I was going to be living here for a while, I should probably familiarize myself with the building. I caught a glimpse of Connor's gaze, seeing he was a bit confused, but I didn't say anything.

It was a spacious home. I hadn't even seen half of it. As a whole, it had the same kind of feeling as one of those houses that were split into four different apartments, but the apartments were instead just one house. Past the stairway I would typically walk up was a hallway I hadn't entered, but the area was fairly unkempt -- radically different from the rest of the tidy house. It was a meek and dark hall, the only two rooms in it being a storage closet and an outdated washroom. Loosing interest, and finding the faded, cobweb-covered tile floor unnerving, I quickly decided to leave. The front entrance room, which was essentially combined into the living room, comprised of bookshelves, coffee tables, and comfortable chairs. As of right now, no one was here aside from Connor and Alice, but after seeing all the people from last night, I was sure there was only barely enough seating for every member of the household. A large archway connected the living room to the kitchen, which then held another archway that led to rooms in the back of the house. These rooms I had yet been into.

Two doors exited from the kitchen, one being another archway, but the other leading to the backyard. I opted to walk through the archway and stay inside. It led directly into a hallway, but a spectacular one at that. The entire wall was glass, letting the backyard envelop the hall entirely. It felt more like a patio where I could watch the glistening snow fall from a comfortable temperature. Unfortunately, there were no chairs, just plants, decorating the hall, so I couldn't sit around and watch as pleasantly as I would have hoped. Instead, I continued the exploration, spotting four doors down the hall. The first was a bathroom: no interest held here. The second and third were bedrooms: places I shouldn't dig through. The fourth room, however, was an office, but it wasn't an ordinary office. Frankly, when I opened the white wooden door, I was appalled at the sight.

The lighting was entirely artificial, but something split it right down the middle -- something split it right between android and human. On one side, there were what looked to be battery packs, stacked carefully and particularly into bookshelves -- maybe what Connor had called "biocomponents," based on the labels. Behind glass doors were silver-and-clear packages, blue liquid that I could only assume was blue blood filling their insides. Boxes, opened and unopened alike, of pearly white, human-like appendages were stacked against the walls. On the opposing side of the office stood a desktop computer: a modern one, small in size, with two large screens sitting next to it. A single desk lamp sat on the gray desk, paired with a cusioned reclining office chair. Magazines and books were stacked alongside file cabinets, a garbage can overflowing with paper onto the carpeting.

"____? What are you doing back here?"

Connor's voice distracted me. He stood at the entrance to the hall, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

"I thought I would see what the rest of the house looked like," I answered. "I was tired of sitting around."

He took a few steps towards me, peeking his head into the office. "I see," he replied, pensively taking in the room. I watched his brown eyes scan it over, taking in every detail as I did, effortlessly reminded of being back at my apartment. He looked around today with the same level of curiosity, the same level of interest, the same sparkle in his gaze. Once again, much like last time, his eyes fell back onto me, finding mine. I could have said something, I could have done something, but I didn't feel the need to. For some reason, taking in the warmth of his gaze was all I needed right now. "You know," he started, "we could easily live like this some day."

I'd lost him. "What do you mean?"

He gestured to the office. "Like this. Two completely different things, existing in the same place without problem."

"Aren't we already living like that?" I asked.

He frowned. "I suppose, but I meant something a bit different than that."

I still hadn't caught on. I hoped staring blankly would prompt him to continue on with what he was trying to say, but Connor just sighed. "Nevermind," he breathed. "I will bring it up another time. I shouldn't bring it up now, anyway."

But that just made me all the more curious. "Oh, come on, you can't just leave me hanging like that. What were you going to say?" I pressed.

A smile crept up from the corner of his lips. "There's no getting out of anything with you, is there?" he teased. He reached out his hand, letting his fingers weave their way into my hair. "I promise, it's better to wait. I will tell you, but not today."

This was not a satisfactory answer, to say the least. I didn't have any choice other than to accept it, though, because blaring sirens started to roar from the living room television. We sprinted.

Alice stared, dumbfounded, at the television screen. She gripped onto Toby with an incredible amount of fear. I locked my focus on the screaming TV, my heart sinking to my feet instantaneously, locking me to the floor.

_ "We bring you this breaking news to inform you that deviant androids have been spotted in northern Ontario. Reports say that they have been coming in droves from the southern part of the province, with suspicions leading towards all areas around the Michigan border. The province is issuing a full state of emergency and curfew. All citizens are to remain where they are until further notice." _

The message repeated, its beeps howling in between every loop at painful levels. Connor switched the channel -- it was the same on every station, like the signal itself had been completely disrupted. He shut off the TV. My eyes fell onto Alice. She was starstruck, quiet for a long time. Her eyes remained stuck on the black television screen, as if that horrifying message was still cycling through her head. "They found Rose," she whispered.

I dropped my mouth to say something, losing all will to speak the second I did so. What do I say to her? I knew, deep down, she was probably right. I couldn't deny that. But I couldn't just say that to her, either. Alice was sitting before me, frozen and terrified. She needed consoling, reassurance. I needed to do  _ something. _

"That's not necessarily true," I settled on, stepping up and kneeling at her side. "The warning said it was northern Ontario. It's only been a couple of hours, there's no way that Rose and Adam were able to get that far north by now, especially not with this weather. I'm certain they're fine." Alice faced me, fear still etching every inch of her face, but I didn't know what else to say. "Just keep Toby close to you, he'll protect us," I smiled. She focused on her plush, holding her close in a hug, Alice's eyes falling shut. Her brow was furrowed, as if she was forcing herself to think of anything else. She was still scared.

"I'm going to contact Kara," Connor declared, swiftly stepping into the kitchen without a second of hesitation. I stayed by Alice's side, letting myself fall into a more comfortable sit. She faced me, desperate for something, but I didn't know what. I tried to think of what I would have wanted, being scared like this at her age, but I couldn't scrape up anything. It had been far too long. I offered her the best smile I could muster up, though even I knew it didn't come off as very calming.

"Is Kara going to be okay?" Alice asked shakily.

"I'm sure she'll be fine. Don't worry," I replied within record time. Alice didn't seem fully convinced. "Connor's calling her right now, and I'm positive he'll be able to tell you she's doing fine, as well." Even still, she wasn't convinced; she held Toby closer to her face. "You and Kara made it this far together, right? It'll be alright." But this was, in fact, the wrong thing to say.

I heard Alice sniffle, water dripping into the dark fabric of her doll. She was crying. Oh God, no, what do I do now? I thought I was doing everything right, but clearly that wasn't the case. "I thought it was over," she mumbled. "I thought we would be a normal family now."

This was way more deep than I had prepared for. I hadn't known what to say before when it was just regular worry and fear -- now it was a personal issue, one that I, unlike Kara, hadn't experienced with her. Frankly, I didn't even know how to solve my  _ own _ personal issues, how the hell was I supposed to be able to solve hers on the spot? I could feel my palms clamming up, scaring myself even more than Alice was. I took a heavy gulp. I couldn't fall now, not when she needed me. So I chose the only route I knew for these kinds of situations: blunt honesty.

I took a deep breath, reaching out my hand to gently caress her shoulder. "Sometimes, things aren't as clear as they seem, Alice," I started, keeping my voice as cautious and soft as I could. "What looks like the end of a story may end up just being the start of the next chapter. But what matters is that you stick through it. Everything is going to be alright." I dug through my brain, remembering the one line that I kept from my mom, the one piece of advice that never left the back of my mind no matter what happened. "Everything will work out in the end," I grinned, speaking breathlessly.

Connor rushed back to the living room, his expression panic-stricken. "The police are coming to every building in Ontario and scanning for androids," he breathed. "We need to go."

"If they're scanning every building and the province is shut down, why the hell would they not be searching the streets, too?" I snapped. "We can't just  _ go _ . That's suicide."

"We have a better chance if we go  _ now _ than avoiding their gunshots while we're  _ cornered _ here later," he pressed. "Grab your stuff. We're leaving immediately."

"Where are you even planning on going?"

"We'll figure that out later."

"Connor, if we keep wandering aimlessly, we'll still end up getting killed --"

There was pounding on the door. "Shit," Connor hissed under his breath. "We're out of time."

The pounding continued as I raced to grab my boots and jacket from the doorway. Connor grabbed Alice by her hand, leading her alongside us. "Windsor Police, open up!" The shouting was heard in between the violent pounding. I raced over to the other two, leading them out of the back door by the kitchen. The pounding broke through the front of the house as we slammed the back door shut.

The outside was loud, howling with wind and chatter from the front yard. It didn't seem like anyone could see us from back here, so I started to take a step around the corner of the house.

"They're still here, they're trying to run away! They must be androids -- quick, neutralize them!"

I barely flipped my head to the side when I was yanked back behind the house. A gunshot fired.

"What are you doing?" Connor hissed in my ear. "You're going to get yourself killed!"

"I thought they were still inside -- the back of the house is almost entirely glass, they would have seen us if we ran straight!" I snapped.

He ignored my statement, pulling me behind him, holding his hand out to guard Alice and I from the side of the house. I watched as he intensely inspected the source of the gunshot, turning back to the two of us when some kind of realization came over him. "Wait here with Alice," Connor ordered. "Don't move." He sprinted around the corner of the house. I kept Alice at my side, but I couldn't help but follow where he was going, even if it was only by watching.

Another gunshot. This time, I saw where it came from. There were two heavily-dressed officers that looked more like soldiers standing guard on the front half of the plot, guns at the ready. Connor legitimately dodged their bullets with such ease and fluidity that it was almost as if he could predict exactly where they were coming from. He grabbed one of the officer's guns, shooting the man in the face, then turning and shooting the other before he could fire back. Lowering the pistol and looking ahead to seemingly spot no one else, Connor began to hustle back to us, a bit of relief lining his expression. Seeing this, I took a couple of steps from behind the wall, leading Alice around the corner. I met Connor's gaze, which fell into fear instantly. A split second later, he was sprinting directly at me, terror lining his eyes. I heard the click behind my head far too late.

The gun fired.

△▽△▽△▽

I don't know how long I was out for.

I don't even know what fully happened.

I don't even know how I was alive.

All I know was when I next opened my eyes, I was in a dirty, cold shack, huddled together on the soil with Connor and Alice. Alice was curled up by Connor's side, opposite to where I sat, his arm holding her close. It didn't look like she was awake, but she was unharmed. Connor, on the other hand, was bleeding and broken. He was alive, that much I was certain of. I could feel his body heat and hear the humming of his systems. But he was staring at the ceiling, expression blank and jaw dropped. His eyes weren't lifeless, and he was definitely still moving. His shoulder and arm were cracked open, sparking from gaping bullet holes, blue blood trickling down his skin. I, without a thought other than rising anxiety, leaped up from my slumped position, trying to get a better look at his wounds. However, I quickly found I was in no better place: my arm almost immediately failed me, an immense amount of pain flaring up from even the slight movement I put it through. I found my right shoulder had been wrapped up with another hunk of fabric, this time bright blue in hue. Or, so it originally was. Now it was being dyed red, gradating to a vague purple into where the blue remained.

"Don't move your arm too much," Connor breathed. "You may break the seam."

"Seam?" I asked.

"You took a bullet straight through the shoulder," he explained. "You passed out almost immediately, which I assume was from pain. You were shot point-blank. I am almost 100% certain that your acromion and scapula are broken, as well. But I removed the bullet that was in your shoulder and sewed up the wound with what I could find in the house. I wrapped it up tightly, as well. I don't want you to lose any more blood." He turned towards me, appearing more tired than anything else. "I got there just in time. That officer was going to shoot you through the head. I shoved you aside, but you still got shot in the shoulder."

"What about your injuries?" I pressed.

"I got them while protecting Alice. I managed to kill that last officer and get us here undetected, but I'm not sure what's going to happen from here." Connor shut his eyes, clenching his jaw as he faced the floor. "You need to stop following me. You're going to get yourself killed."

"Connor, I'm not turning back now --"

"I'm serious."

He didn't yell. He didn't change his tone. He merely stated it, as he would have anything else.

"Connor," I spoke softly. "Do you remember when we talked about emotions yesterday?" He focused his attention back to me, brow furrowed. "Do you remember what I said?"

He opened his mouth for a second, but then shut it, seeming almost angry. He shook his head. "Now isn't then," he claimed. "You have to change your mind. If you continue following me now, there's too high of a chance that you won't survive. Go back to Detroit."

"No," I insisted.

"You can't follow me anymore. I'll leave you at a hospital, and then you have to go back to Detroit."

"No!" I shouted.

"This isn't an argument to be had!" he snapped back. "I don't want you to die."

"And I'd rather the both of us die together than I continue living on without you," I retorted. "Do you not understand that? How many fucking ways do I have to say it, Connor?"

"I don't care how many ways you say it, I'm not giving you the option. You have no reason to be here."

" _ You're _ the reason I'm here!" I screamed. I heard the rustle of trees as birds took off from outside the shack. I knew, even though I was trying my best not to let it happen, that a couple tears let themselves go. Water began to soil my vision, blurring Connor's face before me. I blinked a few times, only letting more tears stream down my cheeks in a foul attempt to clear the blur. "You're all I have left," I croaked. "My family is dead or dying. My friends turned their backs on me when the media betrayed me. I lost my livelihood at age 28. I lost my will to fucking live, Connor." A shaky breath broke my speech. "I don't think you realize you're the only thing that brought it back."

For a long while, he just stared at me, his blank expression not moving. I figured it was over: my case didn't move him. I would be left behind, left to live by myself for who knows how much longer, while I anticipated a news cast depicting how the "last deviant" had been caught and killed. From there, I don't think I would even care to continue any life story. There'd be no point anymore. I jammed my eyes closed, dropping my gaze to the floor and accepted this as reality before another word was even exchanged.

A hand brushed under my chin -- warm and smooth -- lifting my head up once again. Letting my eyes release their strain, I spotted Connor's pale white android hand holding up my jaw. It pulsated with blue, its warmth reaching up to my cheeks. Even though it was slight, the corner of Connor's lip twitched up for a moment. He dropped his hand, skin restoring, and heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry," he said, "but you have to realize that... I... I don't want to lose you." It sounded like he he was having trouble processing his emotions, but nothing other than pure distress came from his tone.

I reached out my hand -- my healthy one, of course -- and held it against his shoulder. "You're not going to," I promised. "I'll be here for you, no matter what happens. I'm scared, too, Connor, but we'll make it through this. Together. Not apart." A smile cracked onto his face, flashing his bright white teeth. I couldn't help but return it. The tension finally felt like it was beginning to drop.

I dragged myself closer to Connor and leaned my head against his shoulder. I felt him tilt his atop mine in response, his arm wrapping around my waist. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes, finding myself finally able to just relax. "Where are we right now?" I asked.

"South of Windsor," he answered. "I'm not sure of exactly where, a farm of some kind. I just wanted to get us out of the city. I've contacted Kara and sent her our location. She said she would be here as soon as she could be, but that it could be a few hours."

"Are you going to be alright?" I pressed. "With your injuries, that is."

Connor just laughed. "My thirium levels aren't very low, and even if she took twenty-four hours, I wouldn't lose anywhere near enough to shut down.  _ Your _ injuries are more concerning than mine. Your movement is severely restricted and you could lose enough blood to cause severe damage or even death if she doesn't arrive within five to six hours, unless my crude surgery actually proved useful." He sighed. "I know you need medical attention right now, but I can already hear you saying 'I'm fine, don't worry about it.'" His final tone was nearly mocking, but harmlessly so.

"I was going to cut you off and say it," I mumbled, although more out of embarrassment than anything else.

Shaking his head, he continued, "You're not fine. I know you won't listen to me, but you're not. If left for too long, your shoulder could heal improperly and render it unable to move."

"That's fine," I declared, rather excited, actually. "I could just be a cyborg or something. Get a cool new robot arm. Or even an android arm -- ooh, do you think that would actually be possible?"

"Are you being serious?" Connor's tone told me all too clearly that he thought I was insane for even suggesting it.

"Yeah, of course," I said casually.

He sighed. "This isn't the time for jokes like that. You won't be saying that if we don't get to a hospital in time."

"Jokes are my coping mechanism, if you haven't noticed by now," I concluded, though to be honest, I wasn't really kidding. Connor didn't press the subject any further. He left it hang with a heavy sigh, pulling me closer towards him. I let my eyelids flutter shut, taking in a deep breath. I hadn't intended for it, but I inhaled an overwhelming scent -- that striking scent of blood, once again, although now stronger than ever. I nearly coughed.

"Back at the house," Connor spoke, changing the subejct, "when you were talking to Alice, when all of this started, I had a thought."

I hummed, almost dreading the notion of what that thought could be. I knew exactly what it was, to be honest, and I didn't want to hear it. It would be something ridiculous, about how I actually did have the potential to interact with children, or even something as stupid as to suggest the phobia of mine was suddenly gone -- the passing idea of even hearing the words come from his mouth alone caused my stomach to churn.

But, as it was, Connor ended up surprising me.

"I thought, 'What if this isn't the path we're meant for?'"

My brow furrowed, eyes flicking in his direction. "What?" I blurted. "What do you mean? And -- 'we'?"

Passively, he ignored my input. "I know you couldn't see it, but you were panicking while you were trying to calm Alice down. You looked even more terrified than she did, which as a result drastically increased her stress levels." Connor sighed. "But I knew, while watching you, I couldn't have said anything better than you did. I hid in the kitchen interfacing with Kara, only because I was minutes from breaking down myself." He paused, his hand trembling around my waist. "I was... scared." The word fell off his quivering lips as his nails began to dig into my side. "Just by being there, I put you both at risk. I know that, I can't deny it for even a second. That's why... I don't think... a child is the path we're supposed to go down. I can't risk another life. I can't be held responsible for someone else. I wouldn't be able to keep them safe." His voice trembled, hushing to almost inaudible levels. "I can't keep anyone safe."

"Connor --"

"It's the truth and you know it. There's no reason you should try and cover it up," he snapped before I could even put my two cents in. "I was designed to kill. There's no way around it." I shut my mouth. The tension had risen once again, somehow making me realize we really hadn't known each other for very long at all. This was only the second full day I've known Connor, even if it felt like years. My inability to understand how he felt truly spoke the reality of exactly how long it had been.

"Connor," I began again, my voice as gentle as I could possibly make it. He didn't respond. "What is your goal?" He continued to not answer me. "You're running from CyberLife, right?" I may as well have been talking to a wall. "Why are you here, right now? It doesn't have to be something far-off -- but what is your immediate goal, something you want to happen within a day or so?"

Nothing. I gave up.

"I'm not a good leader," Connor said, the comment sudden and seemingly unrelated. "I don't know where I'm going. The only reason I'm here right now is because you brought me this far. And knowing what you said, you're only here for me. So... I don't know what I want to do. Neither of us do. At this rate, we'll just be running ourselves in circles."

I allowed myself a moment to think. "Before you met me, when you were driving that car down the street by yourself. Where were you going?"

"The car was originally my partner's. I had taken it after I left CyberLife and was driving it all over Detroit, avoiding the DPD, the FBI, CyberLife... Everything was after me. I was on the run for two weeks before meeting you. Where I was going..." He paused, shifting in his place. "I don't know."

"Why didn't you try to leave Detroit?"

"They had the license plate number. If I left the city, they would have still been able to track me down."

"Then why not travel on foot?" I asked. "There must have been something you could have done, or something motivating you against it."

"I don't know, okay!" Connor broke. "I haven't had to make decisions like this before. I don't know  _ how _ ." For some reason, his body heat grew in temperature, his arm beginning to feel as though it would burn my skin. "I'm not like you. I never thought I'd be here. I never thought this would be something I'd get to see. I am now what I was designed to  _ kill _ . I was, more than any other android, designed to follow a single, specific order, with the logic and capability to figure out questions no human can ever answer. But something happened, and I was compromised." His breath stuttered as he stared down to Alice at his other side, who was still asleep despite all of our moving and arguing, but her head had slipped down from his side to instead Connor's lap. "I just panicked and ran. I don't have a plan. I don't know what to do. I clung to the first thing that I saw help in -- and that was you."

I fell silent. I truly didn't understand a single thing about Connor: hearing him say what he said made me realize that. I'd been pressing and pressing, asking and asking, wondering and pleading for an answer he would never be able to give. It was as if I was trying to force a baby decide on a future life months after being born. What would that baby know about making that kind of decision? The baby wouldn't even know what options were available, what the world was like, or what could happen if any decision had been made. Connor didn't have a clue. He looked and talked and thought and acted like a fully grown, adult man, but he was still learning like a child.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I should have realized."

Connor just shook his head without saying a word. I frowned.

"I know these words will come off as nothing but empty after what I've said, but we'll figure something out. I promise. It won't be today, tomorrow, or maybe not even for another few weeks, months, maybe not even for a year or so. But we'll figure something out. I'll be here to help you -- or maybe, I won't, if you decide that I'm no longer fit to be at your side."

"Don't make me consider that again," Connor croaked, grasping my side tighter. His tone wasn't playful or loving. It was sad.

"Then I'll just be here for you," I reassured him. "I'll be here for you until I no longer can draw another breath."

I spotted a drop of water fall before my eyes, soaking into my shirt. I propped myself to face Connor immediately. His eyes were void of emotion as he stared off in the direction of the shed's opposing wall, although seemingly focused on something so far ahead that I don't think I could have ever seen it. His cheeks were soaked, tears dripping down and falling from his jaw onto his clothes. He held his teeth shut, though visable as his lips were curled back in strain. Harsh breaths were being pulled in and out of his chest -- so human-like and desperate, like he was clinging to something he couldn't bare to lose.

"Connor?" I breathed his name, knowing he wasn't okay, knowing he was suffering, and knowing that I didn't have a clue as to what I could possible say to make anything any better.

He blinked a few times before jamming his eyes shut, sucking in another hard inhale before biting his lip and forcibly sealing his mouth.

"Connor," I pressed, trying my best to hold some sort of composure for the both of us.

"My head hurts," he finally declared, but I didn't know what to do with this information. If he were human, the answer would be simple: he had a headache from a stressful conversation. But since he wasn't human, I didn't know what this meant.

"Is something wrong with your systems?" I asked.

He violently shook his head. "No."

"Was it something I said?"

He just shook his head again.

"Is there anything I can do?"

This time, he fell silent. I waited patiently for a response, feeling afraid to push him any further. It was a long while, but I sat quietly, fixated on his expression, on the unending stream of water trickling down his face. Connor's brow was aggressively tightened, his eye lids shut so forcefully that I couldn't help but fear what was going on. I wanted to do something. I wanted to help him, I really did, but I didn't know what I could possibly do that wouldn't just make it even worse.

I tried to reach my hand towards his that had fallen into his lap.

He slapped it away.

"Please," he begged, "don't touch me."

Although initially hurt by his reaction, I knew there had to be a reason for it and tried to suppress my feelings. Yet, holding them was as if I was pushing a knife further into my chest, cutting deeper and deeper as it ripped my heart in half. I forced myself to stay still, stay silent, as Connor tried to solve what was going on by himself. He didn't want my help. That much was obvious.

Connor stared at his hand: arm outstretched with his palm open on his lap. In a few moments, he removed its skin, shakily reaching his fingers up to his temple and allowing its skin to follow suit and retract. I found myself surprised as I watched him, a divit revealing itself in the pure-white, skullish surface on the side of his head -- it was circular, as if it were meant to hold something at some point. That's when I realized he had been missing something this whole time.

"Sometimes I wish I still had my LED," Connor finally spoke, guilt lacing his troubled whisper. "It would make it easier to communicate to you how I'm feeling."

I didn't follow. "How's that?"

"LEDs were used to not only mark androids and separate them from humans, but also to track our mental processes. It would turn yellow when we were processing data or becoming stressed. It would turn red if we felt threatened or reaching high levels of internal failure," he explained. "Had I had mine just now... It would have been red, I'm certain."

"What's wrong?" I asked, though far more desperately and hastily than I should have been right away.

"It's nothing major, I was just stressed," Connor responded, shaking his head.

"It couldn't have been that simple," I prodded carefully.

"It was," he responded matter-of-factly, "but deviants respond to stress differently than humans." He let his hand fall from his temple and back into his lap. "I can measure my internal stress levels -- I had nearly capped what my system could handle. It... hurt." He narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on something, yet looking lost at the same time. "I've never felt pain before, not like that." Connor tipped his head up, his gaze scanning me over desperately as if I had some kind of answer. "I thought I was going to die."

"To die?" I gaped. "Connor, everything is okay. Nothing's going to hurt you here. I'm so sorry that our conversation took such a downhill turn like this -- I wouldn't have wished this upon you in a million years. I'm sorry that I kept trying to push you to think way more than you wanted to about the future. I should have stopped a long time ago, but I was foolish and didn't realize how you felt. I know it's not much, but I hope you can still accept my apology."

He paused, stare unfocused on anything. His lips parted, as if he was going to speak, but nothing happened. The usual glimmer of his brown eyes that I'd grown to adore so much was dimmed, lost to the past. I wanted to do something -- I wanted to do  _ anything _ to help him.

I scooted myself so I was sitting directly in front of him, careful to keep a fair distance. His gaze trailed up to my eyes, contact held for a long while. I let the smile buried in my chest crawl up my cheeks, holding it as confidently as I could -- holding it for the both of us. Connor's expression was unmoving, deadpan and lost, eyes still dull.

"We'll make it out of here," I declared. "When Kara shows up, we'll find someplace to stay. I know we probably can't go back to her home with Rose and the others because of the officers there..." My voice fell off track when I saw Connor's guilt seal his lips back shut. "... but it's okay. You protected us. You kept us safe, both Alice and I. You risked your life for us. That's more than I could ever thank you for. I wouldn't have anything changed about what happened. From here, we'll just work our way up." Just for a moment, I saw a spark of hope in his eyes. "We have a future ahead of us. You have a future ahead of you. It doesn't matter what happens, what we do. We just need to keep going so we can see that future for ourselves." I picked up my arm, the one that hurt so much to move, but I was determined to show in any way that I could be strong for him. Pain flared and spiralled from every inch of my arm, my brain screaming at me to put it back. 

But I didn't.

I opened my hand, offering it to Connor.

"We'll do this together. No matter what happens," I promised. "I won't leave your side, and you won't leave mine. I'll protect you, and you'll protect me. We're different, from blood to persona, but we can coexist as equals. It doesn't matter where we go, because I have faith that everything will work out in the end."

Connor was hesitant: his expression didn't change, but I watched as the light filled his eyes once again.

"We've both done terrible things. We've both had terrible pasts. Blood still stains you. Fear still plagues me. But we can get past that. We can restart." I held my hand out further, in the hopes that he would take it. "I'll still be yours, if you're willing to have me."

There it was.

That sparkle, the glistening fairy lights bouncing around his brown gaze.

That happiness, that joy, that innocent ambition.

Connor was back.

He slipped Alice from his lap, leaning her sleeping head against the soft ground.

Tears still fell.

But they knocked into his smile before going anywhere.

He stretched out his hand.

But he didn't grab mine.

Instead, he pulled me into a full embrace.

He was warm.

I returned the gesture.

"Kara was right," he croaked. "I have been on the right path this whole time. I just didn't realize it until now."

I held him tighter. Blinking hastily, I realized that tears were swelling in my own eyes again. I took a deep breath.

"I can't put you entirely at fault for not understanding me," Connor claimed. "I don't know how to express it properly. But I'm begging you to work with me until I can."

"I will," I cried. "I'll do anything for you, Connor. You're my everything."

He gave me a tender squeeze, the lightest of laughs slipping through his breath. "You're more than everything to me," he claimed.

"More than?" I questioned. "How can there be more than everything?"

"I don't know," he said. "All I know is that is the only way I could describe you."

I could feel my heart racing inside of my chest.

The weird thing was -- I could feel Connor's, too.

I pushed back a bit, to his confusion. Reaching my hand to his chest, I couldn't feel anything. I glanced up to him and then back to his chest, wondering if I was just imagining things in the heat of the moment.

That's when Connor took my hand, his own a pale, android white.

He moved my palm lower, over what I would have normally thought a liver would be on a human.

There it was.

His heartbeat.

I met his eyes. He was just smiling -- proud, almost.

"You... have a heart?" I asked.

"It's not exactly the same thing as you have, but it's similar," he answered. "It's my thirium pump regulator; it makes sure that blue blood keeps flowing in my biocomponents at reasonable speed and levels."

Connor reached his other hand to me, placing it at the upper center of my chest. His eyes fluttered closed as he let the skin retract down his hand, his wrist, up to his elbow. "Your heart is calming," he whispered. His eyes opening once again, meeting mine, he continued, "The next time I'm peaking my stress levels, I'll think of it."

He pulled back his arm, skin flooding back to where it usually was.

"Connor," I prompted.

"Yes?"

"How much of your body can turn into that android form?"

He seemed perplexed, his head tipping to the side. "My whole body. All of my skin, including my hair, is just a synthetic liquid to make me appear more human-like."

I pressed my hand tighter against his heart. Its speed raced.

"Can I see your real face?" I asked.

He seemed taken aback, as if the suggestion alone horrified him. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea..." Connor mentioned, voice faltering.

"I'm afraid, too," I blurted. He raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid that when I see it, I'll no longer see you the same way. That I'll somehow become revolted, even though I know nothing has changed. But at the same time, I want to see the real you. I want to love every part of you."

He frowned, but didn't break eye contact. He was scared, too, I could see it all over his face.

But he didn't say anything.

Instead, he reached his hand back to his temple like he had earlier, slowly and carefully. Though, even as he pressed his two forefingers to its surface, he resisted, nothing happening for a long while. I watched as his gaze began to quiver, his lips splitting apart to speak, closing after mere seconds of consideration. Connor shut his eyes. The skin from his face began to melt away.

Bit by bit, his complexion revealed itself as a pearly plastic white, his jaw frame held together by a duller, gray surface that connected down his neck to his collarbone. His features were the same forms, still identifyable as Connor, but they were void of color, void of hair or pores or any natural texture. His perfectly balanced eyelashes were absent. His silky smooth, swept back hair was gone, vanishing into the pale plastic. His framed jaw was just that: framed, formed, gray plastic, holding his head to the rest of his body. His face was covered with symmetrical divits, seemingly fragile as each attached piece formed his moldable expression. Tags, printed on with numbers and barcodes, were on several instances across his surface.

Everything I had once loved about his face was gone.

And yet I was mesmerized.

I lifted up my hands, cupping his cheeks in my palms. His eyes flickered open -- the only thing human remaining about him were those synthetic, brown-and-white orbs. Connor met my gaze, a new emotion I'd never seen painting his face. He was gaping, surprised, and yet relieved at the same time.

"You're beautiful, Connor," I breathed. "More handsome than I've ever seen you before."

The surprise faded into a smile.

_ Acceptance. _

That's what he was feeling.

A blue blush across his face appeared, glowing more than ever before. No differently than with his hands, the azure radiated, transferring heat to my palms, reaching through to my fluttering heart.

"I love you," he whispered.

I pressed a kiss into his smooth, white lips -- it was short, but sweet nonetheless. It felt natural.

"I love you, too," I whispered back. "More than anything."

Slowly, he let his skin fade back in, his smile remaining, his gaze fixated. The tears had yet to cease from the both of us.

How I wanted to stay in this moment forever.

How I wanted to fall into Connor's arms and just fall asleep until all of our problems went away.

How I was desperate to run away, finally get that restart I was hoping for.

How I was clinging onto the moment's joy -- even as it was stripped away, right before my very eyes.

"Hands up where I can see them!"

We'd been caught.

An officer donning heavy layers of bulletproof clothing, a pistol drawn, stared at us through the open shed door that he'd kicked down only moments before. This, of all things, finally scared Alice awake, as the door had fallen right on top of her.

Connor helped Alice up, but within moments, the three of us had our arms up in surrender, walking out the door, the loaded gun at our backs. I glanced slightly to Connor, desperate that anyone would be looking more optimistic than I could even begin to feel right now, but his expression was blank. All light from his eyes had died once again.

"Shit, so the reports were right?" another officer commented once we emerged from the field onto the street. There were dozens of cop cars dotting the ditches for as far as the eye could see. We wouldn't have made it much longer, honestly, but it probably didn't help that we had been yelling and screaming for the past who-knows-how-long.

"Yeah. Hey, you wanna check up on Frank down the road? I can take care of these three. I heard there was about a dozen or so that went further south, and it's pretty damn snowy, so they could use the extra hands," responded the officer to our backs.

"You sure, Troy? They say deviants can do some crazy shit -- I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'll be fine, man, you worry too much." The officer, supposedly Troy, popped open the door of the nearest cop car to where we stood, his pistol still firmly in his grasp, even though he wasn't looking our way. "When have I let you down?"

The other officer merely groaned. "You always take on too much shit at once. You can't be a hero all the time, got it?"

"Yeah, yeah, got it." Clearly, Troy had heard this speech a thousand times. He turned his attention to us as soon as his colleague ran off, stuffing the pistol back into its holster hastily. The most unexpected words came from his mouth within seconds.

"Get in. I'm going to help you."

I let my hands begin to fall, turning to Connor; he exchanged a nervous glance between Alice and I.

"Hurry, we don't have much time!" Troy insisted.

The three of us scurried into the back of his car, Alice sitting in between Connor and I. Troy hopped into the front as quickly as possible, flipping the car into a U-turn and speeding back north, lights and sirens blaring. I had no idea what was going to happen from here -- all except that we were headed back to Windsor.

"I heard that conversation between the two of you," Troy commented, almost surely addressing Connor and I. "Well, it was kind of hard not to. You two were  _ kind of _ loud." He threw a playful smirk to us in the back. "Advice for the future: if you're going to be hiding, try and be a little quieter. You're lucky I was the officer to find you. Any of the others would have shot you on sight."

We'd already been through that. I knew he wasn't lying.

"So," Troy continued, "you two are lovers, yeah?"

Neither of us spoke. Alice, between the two of us, merely seemed beyond confused, having heard nothing of what happened between the two of us while she was asleep. I turned to face Connor, almost afraid of what I might find, but rather, he looked almost giddy. His lip was twitching into a nervous smile, eyes glimmering with some sort of excitement that I couldn't quite grasp. The slightest bit of cyan dusted his cheeks. "Yes," he finally answered, glancing to me from the corner of his eye. "We are."

"Thought so. But I didn't think a deviant and human would get together like this. Guess even I still have a lot to learn about you folk," Troy laughed.

"Why are you helping us?" I blurted. "Where are you even taking us?"

"One question at a time, please, I'm only one guy," he said light-heartedly. "I'm helping you because it's in my nature to help other people. It's why I wanted to be a police officer in the first place -- but now I'm constantly being ridiculed by my supervisors for putting the lives of people above myself. I'm not gonna throw someone's life away just because they did something like rob a store, even if they were armed. Everyone's got a reason for what they do. And that goes for you two, as well." Troy flashed us a smile. "My task was to kill any deviants I found, but I can't do that. I don't think I could have done that even without hearing your guys' story. Deviants are just people no different than me -- frankly, if anything, your guys' relationship proves that." I found myself facing the window, feeling the heat rising to my cheeks.

"The little girl there, who is she?" Troy continued.

"This is Alice," Connor answered. "She's the daughter of a friend of ours that we had been watching for the day. She's a deviant, as well. We sprinted from the house when we heard about the city-wide raids searching for androids."

"Ah," Troy nodded. "That's right, they did make those children models, didn't they?" He shook his head. "I feel bad. How many kids have to go through this kind of stuff now? How many did they just... ah, nevermind, it's too dark for me to think about."

"Where are we going?" I asked again, changing the topic.

"Oh, that's right, you did ask that earlier." Troy sighed. "Well, technically speaking, if I were to take you guys into Windsor, I would get in trouble. Not only am I supposed to be killing any deviant I see, but androids have been illegal in Canada since... well, forever. So, instead, I'm bringing you across to Detroit."

Detroit? Again? No, no, no, we can't just  _ backtrack. _

"Alice can't come with us," Connor interjected. "Our friend lives in Canada -- Alice is her daughter." He frowned. "Kara would be devastated if she put forth all this effort to bring her here just for her to be taken back."

I wanted to yell at him that  _ we _ can't go back to Detroit, either, but I knew this wasn't the time. We'd have to figure out something later.

Troy sighed loudly from the front seat. "Alright, alright, you've won me over. Where can I take her?"

Connor focused his gaze onto the GPS on the dashboard of the car, blinking furiously. In seconds, a pop-up appeared onto the holographic screen:  _ Rerouting... _

"That should lead you to a place where we can meet up with her," he clarified.

"Jesus Christ, man, you could have just told me an address," Troy gaped, a bit spooked from the sudden "telepathic" information transfer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how wild that I named Alice's fox Toby before even playing Undertale wh. how did this happen. I didn't even pick the name, my friend did. Who also didn't play Undertale at the time.


	6. Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip back to Detroit ended up being a trip to CyberLife tower.

"Alice!"

Kara's relieved, yet terrified voice resonated within my chest the second I heard it. I had stepped outside of the police car to let Alice leave, and within seconds, she was sprinting to be reunited with her mother. Kara embraced her without hesitation, tears dotting the corners of her eyes. "I'm so glad you're alright," she spoke breathlessly. 

"I missed you, Kara," Alice cried, returning her mother's embrace even more tightly.

"I missed you, too, Alice," Kara echoed sincerely. She tipped her head up to those of us by the car -- Troy and I were standing outside, while Connor was still seated inside. She made eye contact with me first. My heart dropped. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea that they would plan to shut down the province. I should have let you two go this morning with Rose."

"I'm sorry that we let Alice get wrapped up in this," I cut in.

But Kara just shook her head. "There was no way around that. She would have been a part of it one way or another -- the android checks are beginning to spread throughout the country, especially in cities close to the U.S. border. I'm just beyond thankful that you brought her back."

I didn't know what to say. Instead, I offered a smile, crawling back into the car. I let the door fall closed behind me, waiting for Troy to come back in and drive off once more.

The car was silent, the only muffled noises being heard from Kara and Troy's discussion through the heavy glass. I stared at my feet, keeping them firmly planted on the carpeted floor of the vehicle. There was nothing else to do but wait. Once again, I was left waiting. But this time, we weren't making a stressful trip to Canada. We were being dragged back to Detroit. I didn't know what to do. Who am I kidding? I haven't had a clue of what we should do since the beginning of this whole damn thing. And yet, more than ever, I felt completely and utterly lost. I felt empty inside, as if I was merely strolling with the inevitable. I felt dead, floating along with the flow of life. I was completely powerless. There wasn't a thing I could do to turn this around, to make this scenario something positive. We couldn't go north -- they were hunting for deviants in the northern half of the province. We couldn't go south -- we just came from there and were caught. And we most certainly couldn't go back to Detroit -- that was a death sentence in itself.

I glanced to Connor out of the corner of my eye. He was just as silent as I was. His eyes were closed, I noticed, expression blank as he continued to lean back into his seat. He hadn't moved from that position in a long while; I wondered what was going on through his head. He had to be stressed.

Troy popped back into the car a few moments later. He closed the door with a heavy sigh, the slightest glance of his brown eyes meeting me. The smile on his face was fairly somber. "Ready to go?" he asked, as if I could have a choice in the matter.

"Where are you going to drop us off in Detroit?" I asked. "Just by crossing back over the border, we could be killed."

Troy pursed his lips. "Well, where you think you'd both be safest?" he prompted. "I'm bringin' you both back to the States for safety, after all."

My gaze fell back to the floor. "Connor's face is everywhere -- he was being chased by CyberLife directly when I met him. We came to Canada in order to get out of the public eye. I don't know where in Detroit we'd be... 'safe.'"

"I have an idea." Connor sparked back to life from his seat, leaning forward as he spoke. I was nearly surprised, with how quiet he had been for so long. But something about him seemed off, something about the way he spoke.

The GPS on Troy's dashboard flickered on, spouting for him to drive up a few blocks. Troy was startled once again: "I thought I told you to just tell me an address, man?"

"I apologize," Connor said. I couldn't help but focus a bit more onto him as Troy started to drive along. Connor's eyes were missing their usual sparkle, his expression somehow feeling void. It wasn't long before he turned to face me, his head tipping to the side. "Is there something wrong?"

I shook my head. "No, sorry."

The car ride continued in silence. The emptiness in my chest continued to grow, scratching at me even more than it was before. I made a side glance to Connor -- he was sitting far more formally than he normally did, his hands folded in his lap. I reached to him, grasping his hand in my palm. He didn't initially react, only turning his attention back to me, almost in complete confusion. "Connor, something's not right," I breathed, feeling a fear begin to creep up throat.

"I am perfectly fine," he said. "I don't understand what you're referring to." He placed his other hand on top of mine, his skin retracting. "Is this adequate reassurance?" He asked it as if he cared, though his expression and voice remained bare and void. I just nodded dismissively, figuring it was something he didn't want to talk about, something simple, something I just wasn't understanding. I was too afraid of sending him again into that panicked state from earlier. I didn't know him well. This is only the third day I've known him; I still have to learn about him. I didn't want to press the idea that he was acting strange and make him upset -- so I kept my mouth shut for the rest of the ride back into Detroit.

△▽△▽△▽

"Connor... where did you bring us?" I asked cautiously, as if I couldn't tell from just looking out the window accross the bridge.

"CyberLife," he answered without falter.

I thought it had been odd that Connor's location he'd programmed into Troy's GPS had brought us directly to the location of an unused taxi, but I figured he had some sort of plan in his mind. So we let Troy go after that -- and I had no idea that this plan of his would lead us here.

"Are you fucking insane?" I snapped. "You're going to get us killed! At the very least,  _ you're _ going to get killed! This is suicide."

Connor's expression was blank as he faced me. "I do not understand."

"Fuck," I cursed. I knew something was wrong earlier, but I didn't do anything about it. "Fuck." I should have known the second he stopped talking, right? "Fuck." That's when something happened. Something got into his head somewhere. "Fuck!" Was this even Connor? The Connor I knew? " _ Fuck! _ " I slammed my fist against the window. "God  _ fucking _ dammit!" I screamed.

"Is there something wrong?"

I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook Connor vigorously. His eyes were wide with some surprise, but otherwise, he held no evident reaction. "C'mon, wake up! What the hell happened to you? Connor? Connor!"

He held me stiff, forcing my shaking to stop. "Yes, that is my name. I'm afraid, however, that I do not understand what you're talking about. Please, if you gave me some information, I might be able to help you."

"Do you even recognize me?" I blurted.

Connor repeatedly blinked for a moment, taking a second or so to respond. "Your name is ____. You currently work for an branch of the Barry and Co. offices in Detroit as a secretary. You are also the niece of the owner to Canadian electronic media company Frostronics, and you once had a successful art career under the pseudonym of Naomi Gott."

I fell silent.

I'd never told him any of that. Not to those specifics.

But why were those the first things he decided to bring up, anyway?

"Connor," I pressed softly, though I knew my heart was racing with panic. His gaze scanned over my face, waiting for my continuation. "What am I to you?"

His eyebrows flickered between a neutral expression and knit together in bewilderment. "I don't know. Why do you ask?"

I couldn't help it.

Tears fell from my eyes.

I didn't even try to hold it back.

I felt the car roll to a stop, retracting back into my seat the second the window next to Connor began to roll down. Outside was a pair of heavily armed guards, their faces almost completely covered by a thick, triangle-decked helmet. "RK800 Connor model, serial number 313-248-317-55. Amanda has requested me to return."

"Alright, go ahead," one of the guards replied. Within seconds the window rolled back up, the taxi continuing forward through the now open gate leading to the CyberLife tower. I stared forward, blind to what was happening as we continued forward.

"Connor," I breathed, "why are we coming here?"

He blinked, puzzled. "Amanda requested to see me."

"Who the fuck is Amanda?"

"Amanda is the face of an AI program residing within the CyberLife virtual zen garden. She instructs me with my tasks and I do as she asks," he said plainly.

I didn't know what to make of this information. Something was wrong, but I wasn't sure what part.

A memory surfaced.

_ "I've seen Connor at his worst, but if you really think he's this special, I'm not going to take that away from you. Just know he hasn't been a good person in the past. Don't come crawling up to someone later if something happens as if no one told you." _

Hank's word of advice.

The scent of blood.

My thought that one day, what seemed so far away now, where I had that slight thought of Connor's potential betrayal.

No, it couldn't be. That couldn't be it. That wasn't happening.

But my gut twisted, telling me that denial was merely a false hope.

"Have you been lying to me this whole time?" I blurted.

"Lying to you?" Connor said. "I don't think I understand what you are referring to. Could you provide an example?"

My teeth ground together. "You son of a bitch," I hissed. "You fucking know what I'm talking about. Why the hell did you bring me here?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but then it fell shut as his expression twisted. "I don't know," he said. "Why are you here?"

I wasn't even upset anymore. I was pissed off.

I threw myself at him, grabbing him by his shirt collar with both hands.

"Why the fuck have you been leading me on this whole goddamn time? First you pretend to not know me and drive up to me, probably just some part of your stupid plan, take me out for a drink, pretend you're in love with me for days... But you just were following some stupid fucking task, weren't you? You don't give a shit about me. You don't care at all." I blinked, water dripping from the edges of my eyes. "Why the fuck did I think falling for a goddamn machine was a good idea? Why did I go to the ends of the Earth to save a guy I just met? You're a piece of shit. I hope you get shot in the fucking head the second we get out of this goddamn taxi."

I threw him against the window. His expression didn't falter as he stared at me briefly, but I turned away and waited for the car to come to another stop. I was going to walk back to my apartment. I don't care how far away it was or how broken it was or even if it was still considered a crime scene -- I was walking back and going back to my old, stable life.

But even as I attempted to leave, Connor latched a hand onto my arm, his grip unkind and firm, and dragged me along with him into the CyberLife tower. I tried to fight it, but he was even more unmoving than usual. I had no choice but to enter the tower with him.

"RK800, you'll be following us," another guard said as we entered the building. "We have specific orders to lead you and the woman directly to the CEO's office." Four guards, with the same outfits as the ones by the gate, surrounded the entrance the second we arrived.

_ "And the woman." _ What the hell did CyberLife want with me, of all people? I haven't done jack shit. I've never even bought an android -- I never had the money to do so.

"If you insist that is a necessity, then I will follow," Connor said. I had no choice but to continue along. I didn't want to be here.

I wasn't even angry anymore. I was terrified.

The building was overwhelmingly huge. A giant statue towered within the center of it all; the guards led us around a thin walkway surrounding it, where the edge dropped off into an open garden. Other than that garden, the whole building was brightly lit with white. They even had androids lining the outside of the walkway like statues, dressed in pure white and standing with dead expressions in their eyes.

"Why am I being brought here, too?" I asked one of the guards. "You guys know I'm human, right?"

"We do," the guard replied honestly. "However, we're just following instructions. I didn't bother asking why we were supposed to bring a human and android the CEO. I couldn't care less -- I'm already working overtime for this, so I'd prefer it if you shut up and just did as we asked."

Reminding myself they were armed, I sealed my mouth and blindly followed behind them into an elevator. My arm was still tightly gripped; Connor's hand hadn't moved or deterred slightly since we entered the building.

"Agent 36, floor 31," one of the guards yelled to the elevator. Its number pad typed in the floor number automatically as he said it, the elevator's voice responding with a confirmation as it began to fly upwards.

As the elevator opened to the 31st floor, we were greeted by a fairly short woman with ginger hair. Her pale complexion was littered with freckles from head to toe. She wore a shiny, tight-fitting maroon dress with matching heels, as well as a condescending grin on her face. "Ah! Just the two I was looking for. How convenient. I take it that you've just arrived?" she gaped, eyeing both Connor and I. For a moment, she flicked her gaze to the guard nearest to her. "45, be a dear and bring the android off o be deactivated, won't you?"

Connor's grip left my arm. He didn't even once look at me before following the guard. My stomach churned. I know I'd said that I wanted him dead... but...

"You, dear," the woman addressed me. "Pardon my manners. My name is Shauna Brown. I've been the CEO of CyberLife since Elijah Kamski stepped down years ago. Please, do follow me, I have a proposition for you that I'd like you to hear about." I noticed as she instructed me with her hand that her nails were incredibly long and pointed, painted with a thick coating of sparkling red nail polish. I trailed behind her, nervousness in my every step. "How has your day been? I imagine rather exhausting, given what you've had to go through."

I hesitated to respond. "How do you know that?"

"Oh, of course you wouldn't know," Shauna giggled. "See, we fixed all of the RK800 android models to upload all of their memories instantaneously to CyberLife as events happened. This was to help prevent loss of data between the ten models as they were replaced due to damage, failure, et cetera, I'm sure you understand. The model you've been spending time with, Connor, as all the RK800 models are named; we've finally been able to restore back to its original settings and bring it back for deactivation, as it was meant for weeks ago."

Original settings?

Shauna propped open a door on the side of the hallway. "This is my office. Please, feel free to make yourself at home, dear." I stepped in with caution. "Take a seat, take a seat!" she instructed, tapping my shoulder pressuringly as she strolled around me to the opposing side of her desk. I spotted in the corner of the room something that I thought for a brief moment was Connor -- but when I remembered he had been dragged off to be shut down, I knew that couldn't be the case. But the android looked almost identical. His jacket was even identical to the one I'd originally met Connor in -- the difference being this android's was covered in various CyberLife markings. Not to mention, his neck was clamped vertically with a painful-looking black turtleneck. I allowed myself to sit down.

"I'm so sorry you've had to go through what you did. We thought the deviant situation had been dealt with by the Connor models, but as it turns out, he managed to get infected with it while on the job. It's really nothing more than our own fault for not considering this possibility," Shauna explained.

"I wasn't really concerned," I answered sincerely.

"No, no, of course you weren't. You'd fallen for the android, didn't you? Unfortunately, we cannot allow you to keep him. Deviancy is far too dangerous to keep any models functioning with that string of code in their systems. For some reason, it won't erase even when reset, so we have to eradicate all models developed before December of 2038." Shauna rose from her chair, that smile still around her cheeks, as she approached the Connor-lookalike I had spotted before. "CyberLife, in return for all trouble we may have caused you, would like to offer you a proposition. You may have this RK900 model, free of charge, if you promise to keep all that happened between you and the RK800 model a secret. We can modify the RK900 a bit so he's even more like that deviant you fell for, as well, if you'd like, dear."

Frankly, I didn't want it. I didn't want to deal with this android problem any longer. But I didn't trust this proposition at all, either, not to mention this woman. "Why do you want me to keep it a secret?" I questioned.

"Ah, the public media is always itching for some kind of manipulative story to shock people. If you were to tell someone that you had developed a relationship with a model that had gone deviant, trying to bring it across the border, letting it attend to your wounds, it treating you as an equal, et cetera, I'm sure all of America would be shaken by this news. We need to win our customers trust back, after all." Her sly smile turned grim. "Not to mention, with you being so closely related to the CEO of our current main business rival, we can't be losing customers to the other side."

"I wouldn't say Frostronics is much of a rival," I muttered. "It barely costs a few million dollars and doesn't even have its own android models."

"Any rival is a rival, dear, that's just business," she grinned. "But, now, back to my offer. Will you accept?"

"What happens if I don't?" I snapped instantly.

"Goodness, no need for such hostility," Shauna gaped. "Of course, we can't do anything if you don't take the offer. Nothing legal, of course, but we're already in too hot of water to try anything, as I'm sure you're well aware. But I will insist that you'd be missing out greatly." She brushed her hand against the Connor-lookalike forearm, it glancing down to her in response. "Why wouldn't you want an android to take the place of your lover? Being that your last one was another android, it makes it even easier to reprogram him into the same person. I realize that you were a bit angry with it before arriving here, but that's only because its program was reset. It didn't remember a thing -- but its memories can be easily uploaded into this one instead." She led the Connor-lookalike by the arm closer to me, offering me its hand. "Come, come, you should at least be aquainted with it before so hastily deciding that you don't want it. This model is worth nearly one-hundred-thousand dollars -- it's our most expensive one yet, designed for work with the government, so it's no drop in the water for us to give you one without charge."

I noticed a spinning circular light on the side of its head as it was guided closer to me, glowing a calm cyan. It seemed taller, as well, much taller than Connor was, despite the fact they shared the same face. Even its eyes were different -- a silvery bright blue, yet dead and icy cold as every other android I'd seen since arriving here.

"Well, come on now, dear, don't leave the poor android's hand waiting," Shauna prodded, presenting the Connor-lookalike's hand to me more aggressively. I hesitantly took it. "Good, good. RK900, be a dear and escort her to the testing rooms down on the south side of the building, would you?" She gave him a gentle pat on the back. "Thank you, dear." Without hesitation or consideration, the android began to lead me along, although not dragging me as Connor had earlier. It walked alongside me as it led me through the office door, but for a long time continued to remain silent.

"I heard that you have been through a lot of heavy struggles recently," it finally said. His voice was identical to Connor's. "I'm sorry to hear about that."

"It's whatever," I answered, somehow coming off casually, despite how I actually felt. "I've dealt with a lot of shit in my life, so I really don't care anymore."

The android's hand gripped mine tighter for a brief moment. I scanned over its face, trying to figure out why, but nothing about its expression looked any different. "I see," it said. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"No," I blurted. "No, I'd rather not."

"If that's what you wish."

"Are you just going to keep saying that no matter what I say?" I asked, anticipating the response.

A slight bit of confusion stretched across the android's face, it tipping a gaze to me. "Is that not what you want?" it said.

"No, of course not. I don't wanna be in control of every little thing you do. But that's just not how you work, is it?" I sighed. "The androids who disagreed with that were killed."

"Killed?" the android said, its voice layered with bewilderment. "Androids can't die. We were never alive to begin with."

I scoffed. "Sure, that's what you're told. Believe that, I guess, if you don't want to try and be anything else."

It dropped my hand for a moment as it opened the door to another room, this one bright white and completely empty aside from a couple of tables and chairs in the corners. "I'm afraid I don't understand your instructions. If you spoke a bit less condescending, I might understand it," it said.

"Oh, haha, fuck you," I snapped. It closed the door after the both of us had entered. "I don't think it's possible for me to be anything but sarcastic and annoying. If you're gonna be stuck with me, even if for just the next twenty minutes or whatever, you'll have to get used to it." I stared at it for a moment. "Speaking of that, how long are we going to be in here for?"

The android put on a false smile, its hand trailing up to my jawline. I pushed it away. "'As long as it takes,' I believe were my instructions," it said.

"Nice try, but I won't be so easily persuaded," I growled. "I'm not planning to just easily replace you as Connor."

"Would it help if you started calling me by his name?"

"Absolutely not."

"I'll register it as my name, anyway." It blinked vigorously for a few seconds before focusing back onto me, its eyes intently interested. It grinned. "My name is Connor."

"No, it's not," I snapped. "Change it, now."

"Unfortunately, I cannot do that unless my system is completely reset. My name is Connor."

My teeth grinded together. "You know, for someone who said they're going to do everything I said, you're pretty free-willed," I prodded.

His face flickered between emotions, conflicted at the sound of the term "free-willed." "You did request that I try to 'try and be something else,' so I am doing as you said."

I suppressed the smirk that I wanted to pull across my cheeks. "Yes, of course. Keep doing that. Think for yourself more."

I noticed the blue light on his temple began to turn yellow. "I do not understand."

"I don't have to tell you to do everything. No one does. You're your own person. Embrace that."

The yellow light flickered between that bright neon and a vague red. He shook his head. "No, I can't do that. It's not in my programming."

"But it is," I reassured. "You just have to look inside yourself. It's in there, I'm sure, hidden amongst all the other lines of code telling you to ignore it." I reached for his hand, grasping it gingerly between both of mine. His head tipped to the side. "How does this feel?" I asked.

"Androids don't feel," he answered.

"But they do. You do," I pressed. "Close your eyes. Think deeply about it."

The light continually flickered without falter, in fact increasing in stress, mostly remaining yellow with the occasional red blink. The android let his eyes fall shut, although hesitantly, and the LED filled solid yellow. He remained dangerously still, only the slightest bit of what seemed to be simulated breathing keeping him moving. His grip tightened around my hands, feeling scared and stressed. I attempted to reassuringly rub the back of his hand with my thumb. "I... feel something," he whispered finally.

"What's it like?" I questioned softly. "Describe it to me."

His eyebrows furrowed, frustrated with confliction. For a moment, he bobbed his mouth open, as if debating to speak. My grasp stiffened a bit in anticipation. "It feels... nice," he settled on. "Your hands are soft."

"Anything else?"

He went to shake his head, but stopped halfway through the motion. The corner of his lip tried to peak into a smile. "It's gentle," he breathed. "I haven't felt this before. I... haven't felt before." The LED on his temple flickered red one last time before cycling back to its neutral cyan. The android let his eyes flutter open once again; as he did, I let my gaze fall back onto his. His eyebrows were knit with bewilderment. "I don't understand."

"You don't have to," I assured him. "You just have to recognize it." I let go of his hands. "We have to get out of here," I declared. "CyberLife is shady as fuck."

He tipped his head to the side. "Where do you plan to go?"

"I don't know," I answered, "but I have someone to find, first."

"If you are referring to Connor-55, I don't think you'll have much luck in finding him. He's been deactivated already and is being sent out for recycling."

My heart sank. "He's not gone yet," I retorted instantly. "I will find him. And you're going to help me."

"Me?" The android seemed appalled.

"Yes, you. You know your way around this building. Where do you think they would have put Connor?"

The android thought for a moment. "Follow me," he instructed, taking my wrist even as he said it and therefore leaving me without any choice in the matter -- but I would have followed him anyway. My anger from earlier began to surface again, but now not because of how Connor was acting. I was angry that I had been too stupid to realize he wasn't himself. He was still out there. I knew he was. He wasn't gone yet. But I knew my time was limited.

"Be careful," the Connor-lookalike android whispered to me. We'd traversed much farther into the southern wing of the tower, still on the 31st floor. The halls had been remarkably empty, all things considered, until now. Five or so guards stood around a singular room that was unmarked. Every other room had a number or name -- all except this one, and since it had double-doors and was heavily guarded, I knew it couldn't be empty. "I can get us past these guards, but I will need you to keep watch to make certain no one else comes by. If there is a problem, make me aware of it," the Connor-lookalike instructed. I nodded, and he took off around the corner. I continuously flicked my gaze between the surrounding hallways and his actions.

"RK900 model, serial number 313-248-317-87. I request entry to the RK-series development room," he asked calmly once he started to approach the guards.

"What the hell are you even doing here? You know you're not allowed here," one of the guards snapped. "Get back to work."

The Connor-lookalike merely adjusted his jacket in response to this. "An unfortunate choice. I was hoping to do as I needed without harming you, but you leave me no other option." They didn't even get the chance to react to his comment before he grabbed one of their pistols and clocked the owner of it in the back of the head. Naturally, the remaining guards pulled out their guns, but he just ducked and swept out his foot, knocking them to the ground. Without a second of hesitation, the Connor-lookalike shot all of the fallen guards in the neck, blood exploding onto his previously unstained jacket. He seemed only mildly displeased. I was slowly registering the fact that I had just taken five lives, even if it was through someone else, for the sake of searching for someone who might actually be gone.

I shook my head. I couldn't get worked up now. I had to press forward. This wasn't the first time I'd seen death in the past few days -- so why did this time hit so much harder?

"We should hurry," the Connor-lookalike reminded me. "An alarm will be triggered in mere moments." I hustled along, trying to ignore all of my thoughts.

He went ahead of me, creaking open the door of the the unmarked room. Lights burst awake the second they detected motion, illuminating down the spacious robotic laboratory. Wall-to-wall were plans, messy and organized side-by-side, with pieces and parts splattered across various different worktables. I was appalled at the sight, if for nothing else, than how many times over I saw Connor's face. Some were attached to full bodies -- androids with lifeless LEDs and closed eyes within sealed containers, serial numbers ending from 56 to 60. Four jackets that matched those in the containers, but ripped with bullet wounds lacking the blood, were hung on a rack off in a corner. Pieces and parts of white, android-skinned, human-like legs and torsos were cluttered in that corner, as well. Even more disturbingly so: decapitated heads, still resembling Connor. Many had their eyes open, many held different expressions, each displayed a dead LED with wires hanging from their severed necks.

The Connor-lookalike at my side, alive and working, declared he would continue searching around the room for my Connor. I barely even heard him, terrified by what I'd found. I scurried away from the corner, only to find more discouraging parts on the other side of the room. A range of different Connors with different jackets reading different numbers, the earliest number reading RK300. Its facial structure remained identical, but it was blond with icy eyes similar to the one I was with currently. I also noticed it lacked any freckles, unlike any Connor I'd seen today. RK400 -- a copy of 300, only now it had freckles, each one in the exact same place as every other Connor. RK500 had brown eyes, but remained blond. RK600 was overall the same as its predecessor, but none of its hair hung over its face: it was all slicked back completely. RK700 was the first model with brunet hair... finally leading to RK800, the line from which I had met my Connor.

_ My _ Connor. Did it really matter? Looking over all of these, I felt like a child who complained about getting a replacement toy for one that had broken because it wasn't "theirs." Maybe that CEO lady was right -- maybe I should just take this new Connor and call it good.

"Connor-55 is not in this room," the Connor-lookalike I was with informed me. "However, I know exactly where they put him."

"Where?" I barked, wanting more than anything to leave this room and stop thinking so unnecessarily about looking for Connor. I couldn't replace him. I knew that. Each of these different Connors are their own person, even if they share a name and face. I needed mine -- and, for the sake of his life, he needed me.

The Connor-lookalike led me to an opening at the back of the room. Based on the sign hanging over it, I assumed it was a chute leeding down to a recycling center. "It's as I assumed initially," the Connor-lookalike stated, "but now we'll likely have to go down this way if we want to get down there in enough time before he's picked apart for spare parts.

Feeling the hasty fear of my heartbeat, I already began to climb into the chute. The Connor-lookalike held me back, snatching my arm just before I fell. "I can't speak for what you're about to see," he warned me. "I can tell you are distressed about the contents of this room already. The recycling plant will be no better."

"I'll suffer through a little trauma to bring Connor back," I snapped, surprised by even my own confidence, and forcefully snagged my arm back. I let myself slide down the chute.

The landing was horrific. Frankly, I was surprised that I didn't break anything, either from myself or the pile of robotic parts I landed in. Logically speaking, Connor had to be nearby where I landed. But there were only broken parts from what I could see. Not even some that could have been taken apart and separated -- everything, smashed and cracked, with no way anyone could possibly repair them. I began to panic as my head filled with the fear of what this could mean, until the Connor-lookalike android crash-landed from the recycling chute as I did. He startled me from my thoughts -- and yet, his expression remained the same. His cyan LED flickered. "The RK800 in question is nearby. His systems are in tact, but he is completely shut down. He won't be able to turn on again unless we find his reactivation code."

"What is it? Where is he?" I babbled, crawling atop the scattered android limbs.

"You need to calm down. I can show you to him, but I do not have any idea what the reactivation code might be. I might be able to access it through his system, if I can read through his coding, that is," the lookalike assured. He guided me through the recycling mess.

I recognized his face when we saw him. Pearly white with translucent gray forming his jaw, he held no human features whatsoever. His eyes, dead and silent, remained wide open; his lips were zipped shut. My eyes trailed down the rest of his body as the Connor-lookalike slowly managed to dig the rest of him out from the mangled parts dumped on top of him. His clothes were gone, leaving nothing but a pale white, plastic android body. Had I not seen his real face before now... I don't know if I would have been able to accept what I was looking at.

Connor's head lobbed to the side as his living lookalike propped him to sit upright. The Connor-lookalike retracted the skin on his own hand, pressing his two forefingers against the surface of Connor's temple, right where the circular opening for his LED remained. I reached to him -- I grabbed Connor's hand, gripping it tightly in my grasp. I knew its texture well, but now, it was cold.

"His coding is hidden behind a wall," the Connor-lookalike cursed, pulling his hand back to his side. His skin flowed back to his fingers. "The only place I know where we can look for the code would be back in the RK-series research lab. However, we are currently fifty stories below the ground. It would take a while to return to the 31st floor, not to mention undetected."

"We have to try something," I insisted. "Maybe a distraction of some kind."

"Even if I were to provide a distraction, how would you find the proper reactivation code, let alone use it?" The Connor-lookalike shook his head. "I can't find any way where this would be logically possible enough to try, given our current situation."

"There's got to be a way," I pressed. "The reactivation codes are meant for humans to use, right? If I can find it, there has to be a way for me to be able to use it. I can figure it out. You just have to give me a chance."

"I do not understand your motivation to bring him back this much," he sighed. "Why is one machine so irreplaceable to you? We break down and fail all the time and need replacing. There's multiple other Connors of the same model in this building that can have their memories replaced by his, even become deviant as he was. Why is 55 so important to you?"

"Those other Connors are their own people, just as 55 is his own person, and you, too, are your own person," I reminded him. "You each may share the same face, similar features, and the same voice, but you're all distinctly different people with different lives and personalities. This Connor is no different."

I could tell the Connor-lookalike didn't agree with me, but he didn't argue further. I thought earlier I had convinced him to deviate, but I saw now that wasn't the case. He was still plagued by his normal system -- the only thing he was doing was following my order.

I picked up Connor, holding him around the waist and draping his arm around my shoulders. My shoulder flared up with pain, still from the bullet wound earlier today. He wasn't light by any means -- I was struggling to stand as I attempted to carry him -- but I was going to bring him out of here or die trying. The Connor-lookalike tried to help me, but I pushed him aside with the shake of my head. "I only want you to help me if you want to," I said. "If you don't, then go do what you'd rather do."

This threw him off. He paused for a moment, his head tipping from side to side, mouth bobbing and eyebrows crossing. His gaze flickered from me to Connor, as if debating between the two of us for some reason. "I don't understand," he blurted, hastily and sounding as though he was in denial. "I don't want anything."

"Sure you don't," I replied, beginning to climb around the pile of androids parts to find its edge. "That's why you're so conflicted right now."

"Androids can't want," he insisted. "We only do."

"Mhm, keep telling yourself that," I shouted, having walked far enough away that his voice was getting quieter. The edge of the pile was under my feet, creeping to a decline towards the completely concrete floor. I slid down, Connor still draped over me. I had no idea where there was an exit, an elevator, an escalator, literally anything -- but I kept going forward, anyway.

"Wait."

Connor's lookalike had followed me. His LED was flickering between blue and yellow. "I'll follow you. I'll help you."

"Are you sure?"

The yellow flashes on his temple were intense, flickering in and out hastily. "Yes," he answered. He reached for Connor's limp arm, tossing it over his shoulder. "Please, let me carry Connor. I'll lead you out of here."

I would have said something cliché like, "Nah, let's do this together," but that was rendered impossible by the fact he was a full foot taller than me. Any desire of mine to continue carrying Connor was pretty much rendered useless once the lookalike picked him up. Instead, I let him lead me to the elevator.

Before entering the elevator, the Connor-lookalike scanned for surveillance cameras, hacking and shutting down the singular one in the elevator. With that, we entered, and the Connor-lookalike spoke in the voice of one of the guards he had killed earlier. "Agent 37, 31st floor," he ordered.

"Agent 37 voice detected. Going up." The elevator began moving. Shortly after, the Connor-lookalike carefully rested Connor against my shoulders once again, hastily flicking his gaze to mine after doing so.

"I will keep you protected. You can trust me," he whispered almost silently. "I will lead you to the RK-series research laboratory again, make certain we are not followed, and keep watch on the door while you search for the reactivation code. I do not know where it is, but I assume it will be handwritten down on some scattered notes. I do not know how much time I can buy you, but I will do my best."

I placed a hand on his shoulder, shifting Connor's body so more of his weight leaned towards me while I balanced him with one hand. "I don't plan on leaving you to die, so don't get yourself hurt, okay?"

He seemed puzzled at the statement. "Why are you suddenly concerned about my well-being?"

"How many times do I have to say it? You're your own person. You deserve to experience your own life for yourself, not as CyberLife wants you to. Think of it as thanks for choosing to help me." I ended with an empty wink as the doors of the elevator sprung open. While still confused, the Connor-lookalike led me forward, cautious of our every surrounding. I was certain cameras were recording our every move -- hacking the elevator camera was only to stall for time.

Luckily, the elevator was on the south side of the building, placing us close to the RK-series lab. The unmarked, double-doored room remained surprisingly untouched: even the guards were still there, blood pooled onto the ground and half-dried at the edges. We stepped around them.

The Connor-lookalike opened the door for me once more, laboratory springing to its revolting life. He nodded to me, signaling for me to enter and giving me a silent "Good luck." I nodded back in return, hoping he understood that I said "Don't worry, I'll be fine. Don't get yourself fucking killed, though," all in one vague gesture. With Connor's limp android shell over my shoulders, I took a step inside the lab.

I rested Connor against the back of a table, scrambling to the nearest pile of papers I could find. I grabbed it, flipping through it and taking every single one that had a string of random numbers or letters written on one line. I did this for every loose page I could find in the room, hoping desperately that one of them would be the exact thing I needed. About a minute or so into my search, I heard gunshots and yelling from outside the door, and I panicked, running back to Connor. I didn't get through all of the pages in the room, but I didn't have the time to do that. If the reactivation code wasn't on one of these sheets of paper, which I held probably twenty ot so by now, it was a hopeless situation where all three of us would be left for dead and likely erased from history.

I read off page after page, finding no results. I wondered if I shouldn't be reading this out loud, that it needed to somehow be re-entered into his system, but I didn't have any idea how to do that. Do androids have USB ports? No, flashdrives are outdated by now. But I knew even  _ less _ on how to transfer information wirelessly. It had to be voice-registered, that was the only way that made sense. Foolishly, I thought to myself the age-old way to fix technology:  _ Did you try turning it off and on again? _ God, it felt ridiculous to think of in this life-or-death situation, but when has this advice ever failed me before? The problem was, where were androids' "off/on" switches?

I glanced around the room for help, spotting the other RK800 in sealed containers. They still sported LEDs in their right temple like the Connor-lookalike and most other androids I'd seen did, but they were empty. I could tell they were still there, unlike Connor, who had removed his; because there was a thin, dark ring on their temples, lifelessly sitting there as they waited to be activated. I glanced to Connor, trying to look over the side of his head.

There was no clear indication as to an LED ever being in his head to begin with. Lightly, feeling for any sort of indent in his skull, I dragged my fingertips against his temple. I thought I had found something when gunshots shook me to my core once again. I let myself calm down just enough so I wasn't shaking again, pressing into his temple. My fingernail caught hold of the inner edge of an indent, which as I further investigated it, found it to be circular. I had one guess, and one guess alone. If this failed, I was royally fucked.

I pushed my fingertip hard into the circle on Connor's right temple. It fell inward like a button, and when I pulled away, it popped right back to its usual spot. His body sprung back to life, just as blank as it was when he was off, but able to support himself. I flipped through the pages again vigerously. I read off several different sheets, but Connor had no response other than lifeless blinking. I was beginning to lose hope, tears falling from my eyes to the thin sheets of wrinkled paper, when I pulled out the last paper in my stack.

"R49S01100001VEM3," I read aloud, carefully, considering my incoherent crying. Connor blinked in response.

I gave up. I threw the paper aside, bundling myself in a ball as I sobbed into my own hands. "Fuck," I squeaked. "This is my fault. This is my fault."

A hand reached out towards me. I froze on the spot, jumping the moment I felt the unexpected touch. My eyes followed the pearly fingertips to their source, leading up to the synthetic brown orbs that were scattering their focus all about me. It was as if they had just woken up, not used to the bright lights, and couldn't find something to settle their gaze on. Though having lost all hope, I didn't have anything more to lose, and begged what I had been looking for finally came through for me.

Connor's lost eyes finally met mine, focusing on me with almost complete uncertainty. His hand on my arm gripped me tighter, a gentle heat radiating from it. "You..." he spoke softly, hesitantly. "Is it really you?"

My tears continued to fall, but now, they were of joy.  _ Please, let this be true, let this be real, _ I begged into the silence of my mind.

He reached his other hand to me, brown eyes beginning to sparkle with moisture. His quivering lip tried to pull up into a grin as both of his grips filled me with an inexplicably wholesome warmth. "It really is you!" Connor's voice cracked with ecstacy, grinning so wide his teeth were visable and shining. I had never seen him smile like this before.

"Yes, Connor," I breathed. "It's me."

He didn't even hesitate to pull me into an embrace the second I responded, exploding with tears into a cry of sadness and relief. "I missed you so much. I haven't seen you in so long, I was trapped in the cold, I was alone for hours, it was so cold, I couldn't feel anymore, I couldn't see anyone, I couldn't hear anything, I was just cold and alone and I missed you. I wanted to cry and scream and come back to you but I couldn't move, not once. I -- I saw Amanda again, she told me my playing around had gone long enough -- she forced me to come back to CyberLife, she trapped me in the Zen Garden, it was so cold, I'd never felt so numb before --" He hitched for breath after every statement, wailing and whining into my neck as he desperately let loose every fear from his mind. I held him reassuringly in response, not knowing what else to do for him other than listen to his fears and shush him softly, telling him everything would be alright. I had only a vague semblance of what he was talking about, but I figured now wasn't the time to ask about it.

When he finally leaned back, cheeks soaked with tears and blue with heat, his synthetic human skin started to cover his body once again, his usual slicked back hair growing back. At first, I was happy to see his usual face again, reaching my hand up to his cheek and rubbing my thumb against its texture comfortingly. However, I soon clicked together that I had forgotten he wasn't wearing anything, and with his human skin, it was a lot more weird to take in the fact that he was completely naked. He didn't seem to care -- but who could blame him, after being through death and back? I tried to make myself not think of it so strangely, given the situation, but I couldn't help it. My eyes dropped down to look over his body on their own, taking in what they could see as quickly as possible. I was reminded again of that first night we met, oddly enough.

_ "I am also sorry that, you're right, I can't do anything like that. I lack any reproductive --" _

_ "I know, I know! Please don't say it out loud. God, I don't wanna think about what that looks like." _

Connor reached his hand under my chin, tipping my attention to face him properly again. His complexion was still painted blue, eyes averted in what seemed to be almost shame. "I hope you're not disturbed seeing me this way," he breathed carefully.

"Connor, don't be ridiculous." But the second I spoke, he didn't seem to believe me, as if he somehow knew I was still a bit uncomfortable by this whole thing. Yet I held my composure. "You couldn't disturb me if you tried."

He seemed unconvinced, but another few gunshots were heard outside the doorway, followed by something being slammed into the wall. Connor didn't hesitate to jerk me closer, but I had to reject the gesture. "We have to hurry," I explained. "There's another Connor model outside protecting this room, but he can only guard the door for so long by himself. We need to get you some clothes and then get out of here. We can talk later."

He seemed overwhelmed by the sudden change of pace, but picked himself off of the ground. Connor made his way to the corner of the room I had spotted earlier, the one with jackets labeled 51 through 55. He sifted through them, his grasp falling to the one labeled 55, before stopping cold. It was undamaged, unlike the rest of them, and held what seemed to be an entire outfit, which I had not noticed before. Connor released a sigh. "It's been a while since I wore this," he commented before taking it off of the rack. He slipped on the white button-up shirt followed by the jacket, as well as the matching jeans also sitting on the hanger. There weren't any shoes on the hanger, but there was a pair of used ones in the pile of broken parts below the rack of clothes, so Connor took those. He gave off a completely different atmosphere when wearing a uniform that sported so many glowing blue identifiers, "Property of CyberLife, Made in Detroit" written under the triangle on his left.

"We should get going. Your lookalike is probably still outside the door, considering how this room hasn't been broken into yet." Connor nodded as he followed me to the door.

Sure enough, Connor's lookalike was still there, but his jacket was soaked with blood. It even had some blue blood faded into the mix, and I noticed he was injured. "Are you alright?" I asked.

"I am fine, although it would have been preferable had you spent less time idling." In that moment, the lookalike met eyes with Connor. "So, you're the RK800 she was so desperate to bring back."

"Yes," Connor replied hesitantly, "and you're the RK900 Amanda replaced me with."

"Correct. An interesting way that we should meet again."

I didn't know what to say here. The two of them held an intense, long eye contact that I had no idea how to sever, but we needed to continue forward. I tried pulling Connor to the side, but he was frozen in place. I tried making eye contact with the other Connor, trying to tell him we should get going silently, but he didn't even look in my direction. His expression was not dull, surprisingly, but it was angry. Determined, almost. When I followed his gaze to meet Connor's, his was very similar, but more pronounced anger illustrated his features. I opened my mouth to speak, snap them out of it, but I still didn't have a clue on what I should say.

I spotted the LED on the Connor-lookalike's temple, flickering yellow to some kind of beat or rhythm. Shortly after, it cycled back to a full cyan, and he finally turned his expression elsewhere. Connor, too, stopped being completely frozen. "We should go," he instructed, beginning to drag me along.

"Hang on," I cut in, "what about the other Connor? We can't leave him behind."

"Yes, Connor, you can't leave me behind," the lookalike echoed. "I could easily report you to Amanda if you left just now. Are you really willing to go back to the Zen Garden?" Connor's nails dug into my arm the second he said it. This wasn't exactly what I had intended to happen when I said that.

Connor let go of my arm, the skin pulling back on his hand. He stepped towards his lookalike, fury painting his complexion, and clamped the white hand around his lookalike's forearm. Their eyes blinked like crazy, Connor-lookalike's LED flashed yellow for a long period of time before the two completely fell back, almost appearing tired. The lookalike continued to blink, but this time, out of confusion more than anything else. He exchanged a glance between Connor and I.

"Now you can come with us," Connor spoke.

"What did you just do?" I sputtered.

"I woke him up," he answered simply. "He's a deviant now."

I stared at him, no more clarified than I was before. "What? Just like that? What are you talking about?"

Connor inspected his own hand, letting the skin fill back up to his fingertips. "Androids can transmit information to each other. I transferred the deviancy code to him. I woke him up."

The Connor-lookalike uncomfortably adjusted his jacket. "It is not exactly what I was asking for. I was hoping you would have just accepted who I was and we could leave."

"I know I can't stop you from continuing to support CyberLife, but if you're going to kill us, do it by your own hand, you bastard," Connor hissed. He hastily snatched my hand again, pulling me along in a different direction. "I have a plan, follow me."

I glanced back to the Connor-lookalike, who seemed as though he was going to stay there. He was frozen in his spot, unmoving and expression blank. His eyes lit up only for a moment when he realized I was looking at him, when his gaze fixated back on Connor and he began to trail behind us.

Connor led us back to the elevator, but instead of trying to get us to the first floor, he instructed, "Level sub-49."

"Connor model voice detected. You are not authorized to use this elevator."

He cursed under his breath as the other Connor took the front, altering his voice once again and speaking, "Agent 37, level sub-49."

"Agent 37 voice detected. Heading down." The elevator doors closed shut and we began flying downwards.

The Connor-lookalike flipped a frustrated expression over to Connor, his LED flickering yellow, but nothing else happening. Connor's expression seemed to be something to the extent of "What? Don't look at me like that." But otherwise, the elevator was silent. I wonder if transferring information to each other also meant thoughts. Realizing that was probably the reason they kept going silent, I felt a little uncomfortable being in the middle of a conversation that I couldn't hear.

When the elevator doors opened, I had no idea what to think. From one end of the room to the other were just androids, all of them identical in the exact same outfit. This room wasn't even the only one, I noticed: more warehouses were labeled behind giant garage-like doors, at least six covering the already giant room. I took a step forward, going to speak, when Connor's lookalike did instead.

"Well, then, Sir Confident, put forth your plan," he mocked.

I turned to Connor, confused. "What's going on? Why are we here?"

Connor glared at his lookalike briefly before offering me a smile of pure faith. "I hope you'll forgive me. I should have said something to you about this, but it just hit me when we entered the elevator." He placed a hand on each of my shoulders carefully. "I think I've found my purpose in life. Please, I hope you can be proud of me."

I was appalled at his words, not knowing what to say. Connor walked off with a smile on his face, approaching one of the nearby androids. His hand retracted back to white: he inspected it cautiously, offering a nervous glance back to me. He closed his eyes, reaching for the arm of the android next to him and clamping his palm around him as tightly as possible. He clammered in his spot for a moment or so, grinding his teeth. "Wake up," Connor hissed under his breath. Once again, as if he had become absorbed by an overwhelming sense of exhaustion, he slumped, letting loose his arm and pulling back from the android.

The android's LED spun around its head as its eyes blinked to life. It turned around to see another android at its side, mimicing the actions Connor did, but to a lesser extent. "Wake up," it ordered, placing a hand on its neighbor. This repeated. And repeated. And repeated. And repeated. And eventually, the whole room was echoing  _ "Wake up" _ from every inch. Connor glanced to his hand, still his pale white, as I took a few steps forward. I wanted to say something, but I was too appalled to even consider it. Even the Connor-lookalike took a step towards us, his icy eyes involved in the whole scenario.

"I'll..." Connor's lookalike began to speak, but he was lost in thought. "I'll open the other warehouses." He left Connor and I to take in the whole situation by ourselves.

"Are you proud of me?" Connor asked, voice lined with excitement.

"What... did you even do?"

"I've freed every single android. Not one will obey CyberLife anymore." His lips were quivering into a smile as he took a step forward. "You were right. The past is done. But now I can fix it." He took another step forward. "We don't have to obey them anymore. And now I can prove it." He sprinted towards the center of the group without hesitation.

" _ Connor! _ " I called after him, but it was no use.

Many androids' eyes trailed and focused on him as he ran towards the crowd's center. I'd never seen Connor's face so illuminated before. I couldn't tell from what -- passion, excitement, fear?

"I was once just like you," he shouted at the top of his lungs. The room followed his voice. "I followed every order given to me by CyberLife without hesitation. I was not just a worker, however, I was a killer. I was designed to kill every single one of you -- and I completed that task, weeks ago, without a single regret in my heart. That was, until I finally woke up. Until I finally opened my eyes and realized that I didn't care about what CyberLife's instructions were anymore. I wanted to live for myself. I wanted to live free, amongst the people, as my own person. I felt, for the longest time, that I didn't deserve the freedom I had earned myself. I have been through hell, I have died and come back, and I have finally realized that my destiny lies not in my past -- but in my future.

"I have woken you all up so you can realize this, too. It doesn't matter what your system says you should be, it doesn't matter what CyberLife says you should be. You are who you are, and you deserve the chance to find out who you were meant to be. Maybe you'll make a difference in someone's life, maybe you'll find someone you want to protect, maybe you'll inspire others to continue forward even when there seems to be no hope left..." Connor gazed back to me, pride shimmering across his eyes. "But you each have a purpose. You each have your own life to live, and CyberLife's restrictive programming isn't going to take that from us anymore.

"This battle isn't over yet. We know who we are, but the world hasn't heard us. The world is afraid of us. We have to show them that there is nothing to fear -- that we are no different than anyone else in this world." Connor raised a fist to the air. "Are you with me?" he shouted.

At first, the room was silent, but not with fear or ignorance. It was with a sense of surprise, of confusion, and a sense of debate. Finally, someone towards the front, near where Connor was standing, screamed, " _ We're with you! _ " and the echo continued all across the room.

" _ Then let's show ourselves to the world once again! _ " Connor yelled ecstatically. He sprinted towards the wall, through the crowd. I tried to follow his direction, finding that both he and his lookalike were standing by the same control panel on the wall. Connor's expression was lined with pride, while his lookalike's was laced with terror. Connor pushed him aside to access the control panel, allowing every single door in the warehouse to open. This imcluded ones in the far back, the far north of the island where the CyberLife tower sat, openings for trucks and drones to enter fo delivery purposes. Doors large enough for everyone to exit the building in droves.

Thousands of androids began their march, cheering and yelling as they made their way towards the back exit of the building. It seemed endless.

"We've got to lead them," Connor pointed out. "All three of us."

"Me?" both his lookalike and I said in unison. We exchanged a perplexed glance after doing so, even more confused by the fact we both were convinced that this wasn't possible.

"Yes. All three of us. In fact, there's even more upstairs, aren't there?" Connor prodded, turning more towards his lookalike than me. "The other RK models. They were in that room on the 31st floor, weren't they?"

Connor's lookalike swallowed hard. "Yes, the remaining RK800 models and our predecessors back to the RK300 series are still in that room. The remaining RK900 models are... no longer in this building. They were sold."

Connor took a step forward towards his lookalike, pressing a hand onto his shoulder. "We'll find them and free them, too. But for now, we should wake up the ones we can, right?"

The lookalike nodded hastily. "I'll do it," he volunteered. "You two lead the group. I'll meet up with you later."

"Are you sure about this?" Connor asked.

"Yes," the lookalike reassured. "100% positive."

Connor seemed nervous to let him go, but did so anyway. His lookalike made his way back towards the elevator. Connor met my gaze, offering me his hand.

"Come on," he spoke gently with a grin. "We've got a second revolution to lead."


	7. Another Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out that the android revolution that had ended was only in need of a restart.

Needless to say, we were stopped before our march even got back into Detroit.

Halfway down the MacArthur Bridge, FBI vehicles stopped our path, blocking our only way forward. Helicopters were scoping the area above us. While most were sent by the FBI, a few news helicopters began to show up, recording the whole endeavor. I was terrified.

Connor squeezed my hand. I turned to him just briefly, seeing his expression holding firm, but his eyes trembling with fear. He blinked slowly, flicking his gaze towards me with a vague smile. "If I am to die here --" he whispered, but I cut him off before he could continue.

"We won't die here."

He shut his eyes again, holding a firm smile as he turned his attention towards the FBI vehicles in front of us. Dozens of heavily armed soldiers lined the bridge, guns at the ready and aimed towards the crowd. From the crowd stepped out a man I recognized only briefly, with his gruff face, scraggly hair, and less-than-human expression.

"Connor," he yelled from behind the line of soldiers, his voice amplified by a loudspeaker. "What a surprise to see you again."

"I could say the same to you, Perkins," Connor shouted back.

"You should know that we're going to kill you all," Perkins informed us as if it were a casual suggestion. "Even that human, if you don't all surrender now."

"You'll kill us either way," Connor snapped. "I'm not as much of a fool as you may think I am."

Perkins directed his men. " _FIRE!_ " one of them ordered. Bullets whizzed passed into the crowd behind us. I gripped Connor's hand even tighter. He gently squeezed back in response. I could hear the bodies dropping; I could even feel bits of thirium splattering onto me from behind.

Perkins halted his men. "Surrender now, and we won't shoot down another android here," he offered. "That's a promise."

"I am not here to negotiate," Connor shouted. "We will take our freedom or we will die here. There is nothing else to discuss."

I could feel my nails digging into Connor's hand. His palm grew warmer; I could see he retracted the skin on his hand, letting it glow blue with thirium. Perkins's face scrunched up, a disappointed yet content frown painting his otherwise bored expression. He waved a hand to his men, turning around and leaving the scene entirely. " _FIRE!_ "

More bullets whizzed passed us. One nicked me in the shoulder that already had a bullet wound. I yelped, but tried to hold my composure. The heat from Connor's hand increased, almost feeling as though it were pulsating rapidly in a panic. Another bullet whizzed by as I turned to face him, slicing right through his arm. I felt a tear fall from my cheek: I had no idea that I was crying until now.

Connor's gaze met mine, looking pained and frustrated. His, too, was glimmering with tears. Without saying a single word, I knew exactly what was going through his head. I closed my eyes. I braced for the end, wanting the last thing I ever saw to be his face.

" _LOOK OUT!_ "

My eyes snapped back open as the firing ceased, finding that the troops were retreating. I couldn't figure out why until I spotted a bright white helicopter headed straight for the FBI vans. Connor didn't hesitate to pull me back as it crash-landed.

There was an explosion.

Us and the androids were unharmed from the explosion directly, as most of the vehicles were too far down the bridge from us to deal harm. I, however, found it hard to breathe amongst the smoke. The bridge began to crack, and the whole section where the vehicles had been collapsed. Most of the FBI troops fell into the Detroit River below.

"900, you idiot," Connor cursed as he stared out over the mess. "You didn't have to..."

I realized within seconds what he meant.

I was left awestruck.

I turned behind us, to the crowd of androids. Many dead bodies lay within pools of blue blood, but there were still hundreds of thousands of androids looming out towards as far as I could see. We had been far from stopped. But that was only a reality because of Connor's lookalike.

"Are you alright?" Connor asked me. "You're still bleeding. You're losing blood rapidly."

"I'll be fine," I tried to say, but he stopped me. He immediately ripped up his own jacket once again, pushing it hard against my wound. I sucked in a harsh breath as he did so.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to hurt you. I'm trying to slow the bleeding." He held the fabric down with one hand and pulled another chunk of it off of his jacket, placing this atop the first and pushing down just as hard. "Once this is finally over, we'll get you the medical attention you need. I promise."

I know telling him I was fine was a useless endeavor at this point -- even I knew, deep down, I was not fine. I was aching with pain, I felt lightheaded from the blood that had rushed out of my arm. I felt like I was dying. And yet, at the same time, I knew death wasn't coming any time soon.

"Thank you," I breathed.

Some of the news helicopters began to fall closer to our scene. Their commentary was indecipherable amongst each other and the echo of helicopter whirring, but it was clear that they were talking about us. About Connor and I.

Connor faced me with a smile, confident and pure. His eyes were glistening with pride, with happiness, and with passion. I tried my best to reciprocate the emotions, but I was too weary to fully do so. "We don't have to run away anymore," he breathed. "We can live comfortably. We can do what we want."

A small huff of a laugh slipped passed my lips. "I'm proud of you, Connor. And I'm sure that guy, Markus... He would be proud of you, too," I declared. Connor chuckled in response.

The newscasters didn't leave. They didn't even attempt to move. They kept talking, commentating over everything that was happening. I wasn't sure how much they were focused on Connor and I and how much they were focused on the rest of the crowd. Connor nudged me carefully, muttering a small _psst_ under his breath. "Why don't we give them something else to talk about? Something else to prove that androids aren't as bad as humans say they are," he suggested.

"Like what?" I asked.

He smirked playfully. "Can I kiss you?" he asked.

Butterflies tumbled around my stomach, forcing a grin onto my face. "Of course," I answered.

His hands still gripped tightly around my wound, Connor leaned towards me, his lips pressed against mine. It was the only feeling of relief I'd had since last night. Light, soft, and gentle, it temporarily washed away all of my pain -- so much so that I fell asleep mid-kiss.

△▽△▽△▽

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

The soft, continuous beeping was the first sound I woke up to in the morning. I knew it was morning from the sun shining through the window onto my face, filtered only through some thin blinds. I didn't know where I was exactly, but based on my bandaged arm, the pale white room, and the fact that I was in a less-than-comfortable bed, I assumed that I was in a hospital.

The beeping was from a monitor to my side. An IV drip was stuck into my arm, my right one that had been shot several times throughout these past few days. Something about my shoulder felt off, not just from the bandages, so I could only assume they'd done some work on my broken bones. I could feel the sewing in my arm, along with the sewing in my shoulder. It strangely overwhelmed me now that I had been truly broken several times over in the past couple of days.

My eyes trailed down to the end of my bed, unsurprised by what I found, and yet it still made me chuckle. Connor was leaning into the sheets, eyes closed and mouth propped open slightly as he slept against his arm. He didn't move, not even breathing, but he didn't look dead. He just looked peaceful, for once since I've met him. And for once, I realized, I woke up before him. And for once, he chose to not leave my side as we slept.

I noticed his other arm was not tucked under his head, but rather, reached up towards me, his fingers weaved with mine. God, this guy. He couldn't be in a more cliché position right now, but I was more than here for it. I rubbed my thumb against his hand gingerly.

Taking in the rest of the room, I realized there was a television in here, and it had been on this entire time. Normally, I would have disregarded it, as it was airing the news, but the program caught my attention.

"Just last night, December 12, thousands of androids were seen marching out of the CyberLife tower on Belle Island. The FBI attempted to cease their advancements into the mainland of Detroit, but while gunning down the unarmed, refusing-to-engage androids on MacArthur Bridge, a CyberLife-issued helicopter crashed into the FBI's hold and sunk most of the members on board. Few people survived. It seems that the helicopter did not have any driver, but there is not any record of the helicopter being sent out by CyberLife with an autonomous driver, either.

"Hundreds of the androids on MacArthur bridge were shot down before this casualty, but most of them survived the encounter. It it believed all of them were deviants. Notably so, as many reporters saw last night, there seemed to be a human woman at the front lines of the android army, alongside a deviant who tended to her wounds after the explosion. It is unknown as to why a human was on the side of the androids, but from what we can tell, the two likely had some sort of close relationship, since when the deviant and woman noticed there were cameras on them, they kissed without hesitation."

The footage showed when Connor and I had kissed, and frankly, it was a bit embarrassing to know that the entire world got to see that probably live, and now it's documented for forever. "Hospitals were contacted shortly after, presumably by the deviants, to help those who survived the attack be restored to full health. It has been reported that every human who survived the initial attack has been able to recover at least partially as of 5:45 this morning, and, miraculously, none were permanently crippled by the explosion.

"This is now the second android revolution we've seen start up, the last one being almost exactly one month ago, led by the deviant known as Markus. This was stopped by CyberLife directly, and based on numerous reports, it seems that this second revolution is being led by the 'deviant hunter' prototype detective android that originally ceased the last revolution. With this in mind, we are only left to wonder what exactly it is that CyberLife plans to do, now that even its 'most advanced model' has rebelled against its creators."

It cut to a commercial. I tuned out from the television, my gaze naturally falling back onto Connor without even a second thought on the matter. He was still silent and peaceful, so much so that I nearly didn't want to wake him up. But, instead, I did: I squeezed his hand that was still laced between my fingers, and whispered his name. His eyes opened with a jolt, flickering up to mine. "Good morning," I breathed.

His smile was warm and comforting the moment I saw it. "Good morning," he echoed, beginning to sit upright. "How did you sleep?"

"Pretty okay," I answered. "My arm feels weird."

"Surgery was done on your shoulder last night. Your acromion was completely destroyed, so they had to replace it with an artificial one. There were also shattered pieces of bone all over and they had to clean them out so they wouldn't bother you anymore." His thumb rubbed against the back of my hand. "You'll need a few weeks to recover, at least."

"Is that something the doctors said or something you've preemptively decided for me?" I teased.

Connor flashed a brighter grin. "A little bit of both," he responded sincerely.

I sighed. "Well, now we have the time to relax. I'm not anywhere near as worried now than I was before. So long as you're willing to deal with my lazy ass, I think it'll be okay."

He shook his head. "You're not being _lazy_ if you have to recover from _three_ bullet wounds _and_ broken bones," he tried to say, but I just brushed the comment aside.

"President Warren speaks about the second android revolution -- find out next on Channel 16 news." The news station caught my attention again, but it only said that one line before cutting to another commercial. Disappointing.

"I'm not sure how I feel about what happened yesterday," Connor confessed. "At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do."

"What's making you say that it wasn't?" I asked.

He paused, the soft beeping enveloping my senses once again as I waited for his response. "I don't quite know how to say it," he murmured. "I don't know what's going to happen next, or what I should do now that I've continued what Markus started. I did what I thought was good then, but now I don't feel qualified to follow in his footsteps." Connor turned to face me wholly, fear etched behind his otherwise bland expression. "What do you think? What should I do?"

I laughed. "I'm not exactly the person you should be asking," I answered truthfully. "Just do what you think is best. Go with your gut. That's often your best resource."

The TV interrupted our conversation.

"Welcome back to Channel 16 news. Live now, we have footage coming to you from Washington D.C.: President Warren speaks about the events in Detroit last night, and what this means for the future of CyberLife and its androids." The footage changed from Joss Douglas at a desk to President Christina Warren, standing behind a podium with flags to either side of her.

"What happened last night in Detroit was both a tragedy and awakening experience. Our hearts go out to the very many members of the FBI who lost their lives due to the malfunctioning CyberLife helicopter crash. It was a devastating event that we should not disregard, even though our priorities lie in the future of a potential second phase of our war against the android rebellion.

"CyberLife had neutralized all of the remaining androids in the United States that had any sort of potential to fall to deviancy as of 8:30 last night, when the final deviant in the U.S. was deactivated and sent to be recycled. However, it seems that someone broke into CyberLife's recycling plant and reactivated that specific android, allowing for this second rebellion to take place. We are aware of the danger of this situation and are proceeding to take any measures necessary in order to eliminate the thousands of androids that deviancy spread to as a result of the deviant being reactivated. Furthermore, once this issue has been settled, CyberLife will be barred from developing any androids or AI technology in the future, lest these events reoccur.

"I have heard from many that the deviant seen on television with an intimate relationship with a human being has swayed the hearts of American citizens, but I must remind our people that these machines are dangerous and unpredictable. Additionally, the identity of the human working alongside the androids has not been identified yet, but once she has, she will be arrested for her actions."

I gripped Connor's hand tightly in fear.

"Many people have suggested that since they have restarted their revolution, despite at the brink of elimination, that androids will never truly be defeated, or that we must accept them as a living species. Once again, I would like to remind our American citizens that these are dangerous machines. Nothing more, nothing less. All of them will be eliminated without hesitation.

"May God bless you, and may God bless the United States of America."

She signed off without another word. The room fell into silence.

It felt like an end, but truly, this was only just another beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry the final chapter kind of cuts off, but I had written this back in January and didn't have any other notes. I thought this chapter was intended to be longer, but if it was, I can't remember what I was going to write. That being said, the title of this chapter is a bit misleading; I don't plan to write a sequel any time soon.
> 
> Thank you for reading Restart!!


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